LEISURE  HOUR  SERIES 


DIMITRI    ROUDINE 


A  NOVEL 


BY  '•'•'• 

IVAN  TURGENIEFF 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  AND  GERMAN   VERSIONS 

(Rejrrinted  from  EVERY  SATURDAY.) 


K  A  U  V 

KKS  ITV   OF  ; 


NEW    YORK 
HENRY  HOLT  AND   COMPANY 

1873- 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1878,  by 

HENBY  HOLT.   k 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


L I  B  Ji  A  I  i  > 

U  N  1  V  K  It  S  I  rr  V    <  >  F 

\LJKOU\1A. 

^ 

DIMITEI   KOUDIKE. 


i,  '; 

IT  was  a  quiet  summer  morning.  The  sun  was  already 
high  in  the  cloudless  heavens,  but  the  dew  was  still 
glistening  in  the  fields.  A  fragrant  breeze  was  blowing 
from  the  scarcely  awakened  valleys ;  and  in  the  damp  and 
silent  forest  the  birds  were  singing  their  morning  song. 
At  the  top  of  a  hill  covered  with  growing  rye,  was  to  be 
seen  a  small  village.  Walking  towards  this  village,  on  a 
narrow  side  path,  was  a  young  woman  in  a  white  muslin 
dress,  a  round  straw  hat  on  her  head,  and  with  a  sunshade 
in  her  hand.  A  little  page,  dressed  as  a  Cossack,  was  fol- 
lowing her  a  few  paces  behind. 

She  advanced  without  haste,  and  as  if  she  were  enjoying 

her  walk.    All  about  her  the  long,  gently-rolling  waves, 

1 


4  Dimitri  Roudine. 

now  of  a  silvery  gray,  now  tinted  with  red,  ran  with  soft 
murmur  over  the  bowing  rye.  Overhead  the  larks  were 
loudly  singing.  The  young  woman  was  coming  from 
her  own  village,  which  lay  at  about  the  distance  of  a  verst 
from  the  one  towards  which  her  steps  were  bent ;  her  name 
wap- Alexandra  ;Ea-ido:vn:a  Lipina.  She  was  a  widow, 
<•  childjcss-,  and  toleyab£y  Keli  o'ff  ;  she  lived  with  her  brother, 
kergius  Paulovitch  Volinzoff,  who  had  been  a  captain  in 
the  army.  He  was  a  single  man,  and  managed  her  affairs. 

Alexandra  Paulovna  reached  the  village,  stopped  at  the 
first  house,  a  very  old  and  dilapidated  peasant's  cabin,  and 
ordered  her  page  to  go  in  and  inquire  about  the  health  of 
the  woman  who  lived  in  it.  He  soon  returned,  followed 
by  an  infirm  old  peasant  with  a  white  beard. 

"  Well,  how  is  she  ?  "  asked  Alexandra  Paulovua, 

"  She  is  still  alive,"  answered  the  old  man. 

"  Can  I  go  in  ?  " 

-"Why  not?     Of  course." 

Alexandra  Paulovna  entered  the  hut.  It  was  small, 
close,  and  full  of  smoke.  Some  one  was  lying  sobbing  on 


Dimitri  Rotidine.  5 

the  bench  near  the  stove.  Alexandra  Paulovna  looked 
around  and  saw  in  the  dim  light  the  yellow,  wrinkled  face 
of  an  old  woman,  whose  head  was  enveloped  in  a  checked 
cloth.  A  thick  cloak  covered  her  nearly  to  her  neck  ;  she 
was  breathing  with  difficulty,  and  feebly  moving  her  thin 
arms.  Alexandra  Paulovna  stepped  up  to  the  old  woman 
and  placed  her  hand  gently  on  her  brow ;  it  was  burning 
hot, 

"  How  do  you  feel,  Matrona  ?  "  she  asked,  bending  over 
the  bench. 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me !  "  groaned  the  old  woman,  after  she 
had  recognized  Alexandra  Paulovna.  "  Very  ill,  very  ill, 
my  dear !  My  last  hour  has  come,  my  dove  !  " 

"  With  God's  help  there  is  hope  yet,  Matrona.  Did  you 
take  the  medicine  I  sent  you  ?  " 

The  old  woman  gave  a  sad  groan,  but  did  not  answer. 
She  had  not  understood  the  question. 

"  She  took  it,"  explained  the  old  man,  who  remained 
standing  at  the  door. 

Alexandra  Paulovna  turned  towards  him. 


6  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  Is  there  no  one  but  you  with  her  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  There's  her  granddaughter,  but  she  never  stays.  She 
can't  sit  in  one  place ;  she's  so  restless !  She's  too  lazy  to 
give  her  grandmother  even  a  glass  of  water.  I  am  too  old ; 
what  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  Might  she  not  be  taken  to  the  hospital  ?  " 

"  No !  Why  take  her  to  a  hospital  ?  It's  all  the  same 
where  one  dies.  She  has  lived  her  life.  It  seems  to  be 
God's  will.  She  can't  stir  from  that  bench.  How  could 
she  get  to  the  hospital  ?  If  we  were  to  lift  her  up,  she 
would  die." 

"  Ah !  "  groaned  the  sick  woman  again ;  "  my  dear 
lady,  don't  forget  my  poor  little  orphan.  Our  master  is 
far  away,  but  you  "  — 

She  stopped,  so  difficult  was  it  for  her  to  speak. 

"  Calm  yourself,"  answered  Alexandra  Paulovna.  "  It 
shall  be  as  you  wish.  I  have  brought  you  some  sugar  and 
tea.  If  you  are  thirsty,  drink  some.  You  have  a  samovar,! 
have  you  not  ?  "  she  continued,  looking  at  the  old  man. 

*  The  Russian  yessel  for  making  tea.  —  TE. 


Dimitri  Roudine*  7 

"  A  samovar  ?  No,  we  have  no  samovar ;  but  we  can  get 
one." 

"  Well,  you  must  get  one  ;  if  you  cannot,  I'll  send  you 
one.  Tell  your  granddaughter  she  ought  not  to  be  run- 
ning away  in  this  fashion.  Tell  her  it's  disgraceful." 

The  old  man  did  not  answer,  but  took  the  bundle  of  tea 
and  sugar. 

"  Well,  good  by,  Matrona !  "  said  Alexandra ;  "  I  shall 
come  again  to  see  you.  Don't  be  down-hearted,  and  take 
your  medicine  regularly." 

The  old  woman  raised  her  head  a  little,  and  moved 
towards  Alexandra  Paulovna.  "  Give  me  your  hand,  my 
dear  lady,"  she  murmured. 

Alexandra  Paulovna  did  not  give  her  hand ;  she  leaned 
over  her  and  kissed  her  brow. 

"  Be  very  careful,"  she  said  to  the  old  man,  as  she  was 
passing  out ;  "  the  medicine  must  be  given  her  at  the  right 
time,  and  make  her  drink  some  tea," 

He  again  bowed  in  silence. 

Alexandra  Paulovna  breathed   more  freely  when  she 


8  Dimitri  Roudine. 

came  out  into  the  fresh  air.  She  opened  her  sunshade  and 
was  about  to  return  home,  when  suddenly  there  turned  the 
corner  of  the  cabin  a  man  of  about  thirty  years  of  age, 
driving  a  low  droschke ;  he  wore  an  old  gray  linen  over- 
coat, and  a  cap  of  the  same  material.  As  soon  as  he  saw 
Alexandra  Paulovna  he  stopped  his  horse  and  turned 
towards  her.  His  face  was  broad  and  pale,  his  eyes 
were  small  and  light-gray  in  color,  his  moustache  very 
blonde ;  his  whole  appearance  was  very  like  his  dress  in 
color. 

"  Good  day,"  he  said,  with  a  careless  smile ;  "  what  are 
you  doing  here,  if  I  may  take  the  liberty  of  asking  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  visiting  a  sick  woman.  But  where  do  you 
come  from,  Michael  Michaelovitch  ?  'V  ; 

The  man  whose  name  was  Michael  Michaelovitch  looked 
her  in  the  eye  and  smiled  again. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,"  he  continued,  "  to  visit  a  sick 
woman ;  but  would  it  not  be  better  to  have  her  taken  to  a 
hospital  ?  " 

«  She  is  too  weak ;  she  can't  be  moved." 


Dimitri  Roudine?  9 

"  How  is  it  about  your  hospital ;  don't  you  intend  to  have 
it  closed  ?  " 

«  Closed !  why  ?  " 

«  Well,  I  thought  so." 

"What  a  singular  ideal  How  did  it  get  into  your 
head?" 

"You  have  so  much  to  do  with  Madame  Lassounski, 
and,  apparently,  you  are  so  much  under  her  influence. 
According  to  her,  hospitals  and  schools  are  all  non- 
sense, useless  inventions.  Benevolence  ought  to  be  in- 
dividual, and  education  too ;  all  that  is  the  work  of  the 
soul  —  I  believe  that  is  the  way  she  expresses  herself. 
I  should  like  to  know  who  teaches  her  to  talk  in  that 
way." 

Alexandra  Paulovna  laughed. 

"  Daria  Michaelovna  is  an  intelligent  woman.  I  like  and 
respect  her  very  much  ;  but  she  can  make  mistakes,  and  I 
don't  believe  in  every  word  she  says." 

"  And  it  is  well  that  yo"  don't,"  answered  Michael 
Michaelovitch  without  getting  out  of  his  droschke ;  "  for 


IO  Dimitri  Roudine. 

she  has  no  faith  in  her  own  words.  I  am  very  glad  tc 
have  met  you." 

"Why  so?" 

"  A  nice  question  !  as  if  it  were  not  always  pleasant  to 
meet  you.  To-day  you  are  as  fresh  and  charming  as  the 
morning." 

Alexandra  Paulovna  laughed  again. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at  ?  " 

"  Ah  1  what  at  ?  If  you  could  only  see  with  what  a  cold, 
indifferent  manner  you  utter  your  compliments !  I  am 
surprised  that  you  get  to  the  end  of  your  sentence  without 
yawning." 

"  With  a  cold  manner  you  always  want  fire  ;  but  fire  is 
good  for  nothing.  It  blazes  up,  smokes,  and  goes  out." 

"  And  warms,"  added  Alexandra  Paulovna. 

"  Yes,  and  burns,  too." 

14  Well,  what  harm  if  it  does  ?  We  must  not  complain 
»n  that  account.  That  is  better  than  "  — 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  what  you  would  say  if  you  had 
once  burned  yourself  seriously  !  "  answered  Michael 


Dimitri  Ron  dine.  II 

Michaelovitch,  with  some  petulance,  as  he  hit  his  horse 
with  the  reins.    "  Good-by  1 " 

"  Michael  Michaelovitch,  wait  a  moment ;  when  are  you 
coming  to  see  us  ?  " 

"  To-morrow.     Remember  me  to  your  brother." 

And  the  droschke  started  off. 

"  What  a  singular  man !  "  she  thought,  as  she  gazed 
after  him.  In  fact,  as  he  appeared,  round-shouldered,  cov-i 
ered  with  dust,  his  hair  flowing  in  disorder  from  beneatty 
his  cap  which  was  thrust  on  the  back  of  his  head,  he  looked, 
as  she  said  to  herself,  like  a  real  meal  bag. 

Slowly  Alexandra  Paulovna  resumed  her  way  home. 
She  was  walking  with  eyes  cast  down,  when  the  steps  of  a 
horse  in  her  immediate  neighborhood  caused  her  to  stop  and 
look  up.  It  was  her  brother  riding  to  meet  her.  By  his 
side  was  walking  a  young  man,  of  ordinary  height,  wearing 
a  thin  open  overcoat,  a  narrow  necktie,  a  light  gray  hat, 
and  with  a  cane  in  his  hand.  From  a  distance  he  had 
been  smiling  at  Alexandra  Paulovna,  although  he  saw  very 
well  that  she  was  sunk  in  thought  and  heeding  nothing 


12  Dimitri  Roudine. 

She  did  not  notice  him  until  he  stepped  up  to  her  and  said 
almost  tenderly,  — 

"  Good  morning,  Alexandra  Paulovna,  good  morning  ! " 

"  Ah  !  Constantine  Diomiditch,  good  morning  !  are  you 
coming  from  Daria  Michaelovna's  ?  " 

"  Exactly,  exactly,"  cried  the  young  man,  with  his  face 
all  lit  up,  "  from  Daria  Michaelovna's.  She  sent  me  to 
you;  I  preferred  to  come  on  foot.  The  morning  is  so 
pleasant  I  It  is  only  about  four  versts.  I  went  to  the 
house  —  you  were  not  at  home.  Your  brother  told  me  you 
had  gone  to  Semenovka.  He  was  just  going  out  to  ride  to 
the  meadows ;  so  J  came  with  him  to  meet  you.  Yes,  in- 
deed. How  charming !  " 

The  young  man  spoke  Russian  accurately  and  grammat- 
ically, but  with  a  foreign  accent  which  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  define.  In  his  features  there  was  something  Asi- 
atic. The  long  curved  nose,  the  large  prominent  eyes, 
the  thick  red  lips,  the  retreating  forehead,  the  jet  black 
hair,  —  everything  about  him  indicated  an  Oriental  origin, 
yet  his  name  was  Pandalewski,  and  he  said  he  was  from 


Ditnitri  Roudine.  13 

Odessa,  although  he  had  been  brought  up  somewhere  in 
White  Russia  at  the  expense  of  a  benevolent  and  wealthy 
widow.  Another  widow  had  obtained  for  him  a  position 
in  the  government  service.  In  general,  women  of  a  certain 
age  took  pleasure  in  helping  him ;  he  understood  how  to 
obtain  from  them  what  he  wanted.  At  this  very  time  he 
was  living,  either  as  an  adopted  son  or  as  guest,  at  the 
house  of  a  rich  owner  of  a  large  estate,  Daria  Michaelovna 
Lassounski.  He  was  amiable  to  every  one,  obliging,  full  of 
feeling,  and  secretly  sensual :  he  had  an  agreeable  voice, 
played  the  piano  tolerably  well,  and  had  a  way  of  staring 
hard  at  the  person  with  whom  he  was  talking.  His  broad 
chin  was  carefully  shaven,  and  his  hair  always  combed 
smooth. 

Alexandra  Paulovna  listened  until  the  end  of  his  speech, 
and  then  turned  to  her  brother. 

"  I  am  meeting  everybody  to-day  ;  I've  just  been  talking 
with  Leschnieff." 

"  Ah,  indeed  1 " 

"  Yes,  and  only  think,  he  was  driving  in  a  droschke  in  a 


14  Dimitri  Roudine. 

long  linen  overcoat,  all  covered  with  dust !  W^nat  a  strange 
man  1 " 

"  Possibly,  but  he's  a  capital  fellow  !  " 

"  What !  Mr.  Leschnieff  ?  "  asked  Constantine  with  sur- 
prise. 

"  Yes,  Michael  Michaelovitch  Leschnieff,"  answered 
Volinzoff ;  "  but  good-by,  sister ;  I  must  go  to  the  field : 
they  have  begun  to  sow  the  buckwheat.  Mr.  Pandalewski 
will  escort  you  home." 

And  Volinzoff  trotted  away. 

"  AVith  the  greatest  pleasure,"  cried  Constantine,  as  ha 
offered  his  arm  to  Alexandra  Paulovna. 

She  took  it,  and  they  both  took  the  patl   to  the  house. 


n. 


To  walk  arm  in  arm  with  Alexandra  Paulovna  evidently 
filled  Constantine  Diomiditch  with  joy  and  pride.  He  took 
short,  mincing  steps,  he  smiled  complacently,  and  his  Ori- 
ental eyes  grew  moist,  as  indeed  they  were  in  the  habit  of 
doing ;  it  was  always  easy  for  him  to  be  moved,  even  to  the 
point  of  shedding  tears.  And  who  would  not  be  happy  to 
have  a  young  and  pretty  woman  on  his  arm  ?  The  whole 
district  of agreed  that  Alexandra  Paulovna  was  charm- 
ing, and  the  whole  district  was  right.  Her  straight  nose, 
just  the  least  bit  turned  up,  would  have  alone  turned  the 
head  of  the  wisest  of  mankind,  not  to  speak  of  her  brown 
velvety  eyes,  her  golden  hair,  the  dimples  on  her  round 
cheeks,  and  her  countless  other  charms.  But  the  most  at- 
tractive thing  about  her  was  the  expression  of  her  beautiful 


1 6  Dimitri  Roudine. 

face  ;  confiding,  kind,  and  modest,  it  moved  and  attracted 
every  one.  Alexandra  had  the  look  and  laugh  of  a  child 
the  ladies  of  her  acquaintance  thought  her  a  little  simple 
What  more  could  one  want  ? 

"  You  say  that  Daria  Miehaelovna  sent  you  to  me  ?  ' 
she  asked  Pandalewski. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  of  course  she  sent  me,"  he  answered  in 
a  strikingly  affected  way,  and  pronouncing  the  letter  s, 
like  the  English  th  ;  "  she  told  me  to  beg  you  to  be  kind 
enough  to  dine  with  her  to-day ;  she  is  very  anxious,  for 
she  expects  a  new  guest  whom  she  wants  to  introduce 
to  you." 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  One  Mujfel,  a  baron  and  a  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber, 
from  St.  Petersburg.  Daria  Michaelovna  met  him  recently 
at  Prince  Garine's,  and  she  always  speaks  of  him  most  en- 
thusiastically, as  a  charming  and  highly  cultivated  young 
man.  The  baron  is  interested  in  literature,  or  rather  — 
oh,  what  a  beautiful  butterfly  ;  do  look  at  it !  —  rather,  in 
political  economy.  He  has  written  an  article  on  a  very 


Dimitri  Roudine.  17 

interesting  question,  and  is  anxious  to  submit  it  to  Daria 
Michaelovna's  judgment." 

"  An  article  on  political  economy  ?  " 

"  With  respect  to  the  style,  Alexandra  Paulovna,  with 
respect  to  the  style.  You  must  know  Daria  Michaelovna 
is  a  great  authority  in  such  matters.  Schukapski  used  to 
consult  her,  and  my  benefactor,  the  venerable  Roxolan 
Mediarovitch  Xandrina,  who  used  to  live  in  Odessa  —  you 
certainly  remember  his  name  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all ;  I  never  heard  of  him." 

"  You  never  heard  of  him  ?  That  is  strange  I  I  was 
going  to  say  that  Roxolan  Mediarovitch  also  had  a  very  high 
opinion  of  Daria  Michaelovna's  knowledge  of  Russian." 

"  But  isn't  this  baron  a  pedant  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all ;  Daria  Michaelovna  says  that  you  can  see 
at  once  that  he  is  a  man  of  the  world.  He  spoke  of  Bee- 
thoven with  such  eloquence  that  even  the  old  prince  was 
touched.  I  must  say  I  should  like  to  have  heard  him, 
for  that  is  in  my  line.  May  I  offer  you  this  wild  flower  ?  ' 

Alexandra  Paulovna  took  the  flower,  but  soon  let  it  full 
2 


i8  Dimitri  Roiidine. 

from  her  hand.  They  were  only  about  two  hundred  paces 
from  the  house ;  newly  built  and  still  all  white,  it  smiled  in- 
vitingly from  behind  a  dense  thicket  of  limes  and  maples. 

"  What  answer  do  you  give  me  for  Daria  Michaelovna  ?  " 
asked  Constantino,  a  little  piqued  at  the  fate  of  his  flower ; 
"  shall  you  come  to  dinner  ?  She  has  also  invited  youi 
brother." 

"  Yes,  we  will  come  without  fail.     How  is  Natalie  ?  " 

"  Natalie  Alexandrovna  is  well,  I  am  happy  to  say. 
But  we  have  passed  the  road  to  Daria  Michaelovna's.  Al- 
low me  to  bid  you  good  morning." 

Alexandra  Paulovna  remained  standing.  "  You  won't 
come  in,  then  ?  "  she  said  with  some  hesitation. 

"  I  should  be  very  happy  to,  but  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be 
late.  Daria  Michaelovna  wants  to  hear  a  new  fantaisie 
of  Thalberg's,  and  I  must  go  practise  it.  Besides,  I  must 
confess  I  am  afraid  that  you  get  very  little  pleasure  from 
my  conversation." 

"Not  at  all  — why?" 

Constantine  sighed  and  lowered  his  eyes  rreaningly. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  19 

"  A  u  revoir,  Alexandra  Paulovna,"  he  said,  after  a  brief 
silence.  He  bowed  and  stepped  back. 

Alexandra  Paulovna  turned  and  started  towards  the 
house.  Constantine  went  on  his  way.  In  a  moment  all 
his  previous  gentleness  had  left  his  face,  to  be  followed  byj 
an  expression  of  self-confidence,  or  even  of  hardness.  His 
gait  changed,  his  steps  were  longer  and  quicker.  He  had 
walked  about  two  versts,  swinging  his  cane  in  the  air,  when 
suddenly  his  smile  reappeared  as  he  saw  near  the  road  a 
young  and  tolerably  pretty  peasant  girl,  who  was  driving 
some  calves  out  of  an  oat  field.  Constantine  approached 
the  girl  as  cautiously  as  a  cat,  and  addressed  her.  At  first 
she  did  not  reply ;  she  blushed,  put  her  sleeve  over  her 
mouth,  turned  away,  and  then  said  :  — 

"  Go  away,  sir ;  go  away." 

Constantine  threatened  her  with  his  finger,  and  told  her 
to  bring  him  some  corn-flowers. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  corn-flowers  ?  Are  you  going 
to  weave  a  crown  ?  "  said  the  girl.  "  Now,  go,  really  "  — 

"  Listen,  you  charming  beauty." 


2O  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  No,  no,  go  away,"  interrupted  the  girl  ;  "  see,  there  are 
the  young  gentlemen  coming." 

Constantine  turned  around.  In  fact,  Vania  and  Petia, 
Daria  Michaelovna's  two  boys,  were  running  along  the 
road  towards  them.  Behind  them  came  their  tutor,  Bas- 
sistoff,  a  young  man  of  twenty-two,  who  had  just  finished 
his  studies.  Bassistoff  was  tall,  with  a  common  face,  a 
large  nose,  thick  lips  and  little  eyes ;  awkward,  unattract- 
ive, but  kind,  honest,  and  straightforward.  He  dressed 
carelessly,  and  let  his  hair  grow  as  it  pleased,  not  from 
vanity  but  from  laziness.  He  liked  to  eat  and  to  sleep, 
but  he  also  liked  a  good  book,  and  an  interesting  talk; 
Pandalewski  he  detested  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart. 

Daria  Michaelovna's  children  adored  Bassistoff,  and  were 
not  in  '^Jie  least  afraid  of  him.  He  was  on  familiar  terms 
with  all  the  rest  of  the  household,  little  to  the  pleasure  of 
the  lady  of  the  house,  although  she  always  pretended  to  be 
superior  to  ordinary  prejudices. 

"  Good  day,  children,"  said  Constantine ;  "  how  early 
you  are  out  this  morning.  As  for  me,"  he  added,  turn- 


Dimitri  Roudine.  21 

ing  to  Bassistoff,  "  I  have  already  taken  a  long  walk.  I 
like  to  enjoy  the  beauty  of  these  lovely  mornings." 

"We  have  just  seen  how  you  enjoy  the  beauty  of  na- 
ture," growled  Bassistoff. 

"  You  are  a  materialist,  and  Heaven  knows  what  you 
fancy.  I  know  you." 

When  Pandalewski  was  talking  with  Bassistoff  or  sue 


.  r 

people,  he  soon  lost  his  temper,  and  his  pronunciation 
came  very  distinct  and  often  somewhat  hissing. 

"  You  were  apparently  asking  the  way  of  that  girl,"  said 
Bassistoff,  glancing  nervously  to  each  side.  He  felt  Con- 
stantine's  eyes  fastened  on  him  and  he  was  uneasy. 

"  I  repeat  it,  you  are  a  materialist,  and  nothing  else. 
You  are  willing  to  see  only  the  prosaic  side  of  every- 
thing." « 

"  Children,"  suddenly  cried  Bassistoff,  "do  you  see 
that  willow  in  the  field  ?  We'll  see  who  will  get  there  first ; 
one,  two,  three  I  " 

And  the  children  started  off  for  the  willow,  Bassistoff 
after  them. 


22  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  The  clown  1 "  thought  Constantine ;  "  he  will  ruin  those 
boys  —  a  regular  country  bumpkin  !  " 
,  -Then  looking  with  considerable  self-Batisfaction  at  his 
o.vn  neat  figure,  he  patted  twice  the  sleeve  of  his  coat  with 
his  separated  fingers,  arranged  his  collar,  and  went  on  his 
way.  When  he  reached  his  room,  he  put  on  an  old  dress- 
ing-gown, and  sat  down  to  the  piano  with  an  earnest  face. 


m. 


DARIA  MICHAELOVNA  LASSOUNSKI'S  house  was  perhaps 

the  principal  one  in  the  province  of .    Very  large,  built 

of  stone  from  designs  of  Rastelli,  in  the  style  of  the  last 
century,  it  stood  majestically  on  the  top  of  a  hill  at  the 
foot  of  which  flowed  one  of  the  principal  rivers  of  Central 
Russia.  Daria  Michaelovna  was  a  lady  of  rank,  rich,  and 
the  widow  of  a  Privy  Counsellor.  Constantine  used  to 
say  that  she  knew  the  whole  of  Europe,  and  that  the  whole 
of  Europe  knew  her  —  but  Europe  had  very  slight  ac- 
quaintance with  her,  and  even  at  St.  Petersburg  she  had 
no  very  prominent  position ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  at 
Moscow  every  one  knew  and  visited  her.  She  belonged  to 
the  best  society,  and  was  considered  very  eccentric ;  not  too 
amiable,  but  extremely  clever.  In  her  youth  she  had  been 


24  Dimitri  Roudine. 


very  pretty.  Then  poets  had  written  verses  to  her,  young 
men  had  fallen  in  love  with  her,  and  many  eminent  men 
had  paid  her  attention.  But  twenty-five  or  thirty  years 
had  passed,  and  every  trace  of  Daria's  charms  had  disap- 
peared. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  every  one  would  say  to  himself  as  he 
first  saw  her,  "  is  it  possible  that  this  thin,  sallow,  sharp- 
nosed  woman,  who  is  not  yet  old,  should  have  ever  been  a 
beauty.  Is  it  she  who  used  to  inspire  poets  ?  "  And 
every  one  was  amazed  at  the  mutability  of  earthly  things. 
It  is  true  that  Pandalewski  used  to  say  that  Daria's  eyes 
had  preserved  their  wonderful  charm,  but  then,  he  used  to 
say  that  the  whole  of  Europe  knew  her. 

Every  summer  Daria  Michaelovna  used  to  come  to  her 
place  in  the  country,  with  her  children  (a  girl  of  seventeen, 
and  two  boys  of  nine  and  ten),  and  keep  open  house ;  that 
is  to  say,  she  used  to  receive  the  men  ;  the  women,  and  es- 
pecially the  unmarried  women,  of  the  province  she  could 
not  abide.  In  return  she  had  to  endure  their  backbitir.g. 
According  to  them  Daria  Michaelovna  was  haughty  and 


Dimitri  Roudine.  25 

tyrannical,  but  the  main  point  was  the  shocking  liberties 
she  allowed  herself  in  conversation.  It  is  true  that  in  the 
country  Daria  Michaelovna  liked  to  be  free  from  conven- 
tional restraint,  and  that  in  her  informal,  easy  manners  one 
could  readily  detect  a  slight  shade  of  a  grand  lady's  con- 
tempt for  the  insignificant  beings  with  whom  she  was/  I) 
thrown.  Even  her  city  acquaintances  she  treated  uncere- 
moniously or  almost  with  ridicule,  but  without  any  trace  of 
contempt. 

Have  you  ever  noticed,  dear  reader,  that  people  who  are 
very  absent-minded  in  the  company  of  their  inferiors,  sud- 
denly lose  that  manner  when  they  enter  the  society  of 
their  superiors  ?  What  can  be  the  reason  of  this  ?  But 
why  ask  such  questions  ? 

When  Constantine  Diomiditch  had  learned  by  heart 
Thalberg's  fantaisie,  ho  left  his  neatly  arranged  room  to 
go  down  to  the  parlor,  where  he  found  the  family  assembled. 
The  lady  of  the  house  was  lying  on  a  broad  sofa,  with  her 
feet  curled  up  beneath  her,  and  a  new  French  pamphlet  in 
her  hand.  At  one  side  of  the  window  Daria's  daughter 


26  Dimitri  Roudine. 

was  seated  before  an  embroidery  frame ;  on  the  other  sat 
Mademoiselle  Boncourt,  the  governess,  an  old,  withered 
maiden  lady  about  sixty  years  of  age,  with  a  band  of  black 
hair  beneath  her  colored  cap,  and  cotton  in  her  ears ;  in 
the  corner  near  the  door  Bassistoff  was  sitting,  reading  the 
newspaper,  while  near  him  Petia  and  Vania,  his  pupils, 
were  playing  backgammon ;  leaning  against  the  stove, 
with  his  hands  behind  him,  was  standing  a  man  of  medium 
height,  with  a  thick  mass  of  hair,  a  dark  complexion,  and 
little,  restless,  black  eyes.  His  name  was  Africanus  Sim- 
eonovitch  Pigasoff. 

Mr.  Pigasoff  was  a  strange  man.  Angry  with  everything 
and  everybody,  especially  with  women,  he  was  making  bit- 
ter remarks  from  morning  till  night ;  sometimes  they  were 
very  acute,  sometimes  very  flat,  but  he  was  always  satis-' 
fied  with  them.  He  was  as  irritable  as  a  child  ;  his  laugh, 
the  sound  of  his  voice,  his  whole  being,  seemed  saturated 
with  bitterness.  Daria  Michaelovna  was  always  glad  to  see 
him  ;  his  speeches  amused  her.  And  in  fact  they  were  very 
entertaining.  He  had  a  way  of  exaggerating  everything. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  27 

If  any  one,  for  example,  were  to  speak  in  his  presence  of  an 
accident,  whether  the  lightning  had  set  fire  to  some  village, 
or  a  flood  had  washed  away  a  mill,  or  some  peasant  had  cut 
his  hand  with  his  axe,  he  never  failed  to  ask  with  re- 
doubled sourness,  "  And  what  was  her  name  ?  "  as  if  he 
wanted  to  know  the  name  of  the  woman  who  was  the  cause 
of  the  misfortune ;  for,  according  to  him,  one  need  only  go 
to  the  root  of  things  to  find  that  everything  that  goes  wrong 
is  the  work  of  some  woman. 

One  day  he  fell  on  his  knees  before  a  lady  whom  he 
hardly  knew,  but  who  had  wearied  him  by  urging  him  to 
taste  some  little  delicacy,  and  began  to  beseech  her  hum- 
bly, but  with  wrath  plainly  to  be  seen  in  his  face,  to  spare 
hirrf  ;  that  he  had  nothing  to  reproach  himself  with  in  re- 
gard of  his  conduct  to  her,  and  that  he  would  never  visit 
her  again.  Another  time  a  horse  ran  away  with  one  of 
Daria  Michaelovna's  washerwomen  down  a  steep  hill,  and 
threw  her  into  a  pit,  nearly  killing  her.  From  that  time 
Pigasoff  never  spoke  of  it  except  as  the  "  good  horse,"  and 
the  hill  and  pit  began  to  seem  to  him  most  picturesque 


28  Dimitri  Roudine. 

places.  In  all  his  life  Pigasoff  had  never  known  success  ; 
and  this  probably  was  one  of  the  main  reasons  of  his  eccen- 
tric conduct.  His  parents  had  been  poor.  His  father's  oc- 

• 
cupation  had  been  very  humble ;  he  scarcely  knew  how  to 

read  and  write,  and  so  had  not  thought  about  his  son's  ed- 
ucation ;  he  had  given  him  food  and  clothing,  —  that  was  all. 
His  mother,  who  used  to  spoil  him,  died  young.  Pigasoff 
owed  his  education  to  himself ;  he  entered  first  the  public 
school,  then  the  gymnasium,  learned  French,  German, 
and  even  Latin.  Having  left  the  gymnasium  with  excel- 
lent certificates,  he  went  to  Dorpat,  where  he  kept  up  a 
steady  struggle  with  misery,  but  pursued  his  studies  for 
three  years.  Pigasoff's  capacities  were  by  no  means  ex- 
traordinary ;  he  was  distinguished  for  his  patience  and  per- 
sistency ;  but  his  most  marked  trait  was  his  ambition,  hi| 
longing  for  good  society,  his  yearning  not  to  be  inferior  to 
others,  notwithstanding  his  disadvantages.  It  was  from 
ambition  that  he  worked  hard,  and  for  the  same  reason 
that  he  had  entered  the  University  of  Dorpat.  His  poverty 
galled  him,  and  developed  in  him  the  habit  of  obsei  vation 


Dimitri  Roudine.  29 

and  a  certain  cunning.  He  had  an  original  way  of  express- 
ing himself,  and  from  his  youth  he  had  adopted  a  singular 
sort  of  bitter,  caustic  eloquence.  His  thoughts  were  com- 
monplace, but  he  talked  in  such  a  way  that  he  seemed  to 
be  not  merely  a  bright,  but  even  an  intelligent  man.  Tow- 
ards the  end  of  his  studies  Pigasoff  made  up  his  mind  to 
devote  himself  to  teaching,  because  it  was  the  only  career 
which  would  allow  him  to  remain  on  a  par  with  his  com- 
panions, whom  he  chose  especially  from  the  higher  classes, 
trying  to  please  them,  or  even  to  flatter  them,  although  he 
never  ceased  ridiculing  them.  But  yet,  to  tell  the  truth, 
he  lacked  the  requisite  ability.  Having  educated  himself, 
with  no  master  and  no  real  love  of  knowledge,  he  actually 
did  not  know  enough.  His  thesis  was  a  complete  failure, 
while  another  student,  his  room-mate,  at  whom  he  had 
always  been  laughing,  passed  over  him  triumphantly.  This 
defeat  enraged  Pigasoff  extremely  ;  he  threw  all  his  notes 
and  books  into  the  fire,  and  entered  the  government  ser- 
vice. 

At  first  he  succeeded  tolerably  well;   as  an  official  he 


30  Diviitri  Roudine. 

cut  a  very  good  figure.  He  was  not  very  exact,  but  self-con- 
fident and  loud-talking.  He  only  wished  speedy  promo- 
tion, but,  unfortunately,  he  got  into  difficulties,  was  repri- 
manded, and  in  fact  he  was  compelled  to  resign.  He  spent 
three  years  on  an  estate  which  he  had  bought,  and  sud- 
denly he  married  a  wealthy,  uneducated  woman  who  was 
fascinated  by  his  easy,  bantering  manner.  But  Pigasoff 
grew  only  more  cynical,  and  he  soon  became  tired  of  do- 
mestic life.  After  living  with  him  a  few  years,  his  wife 
fled  secretly  to  Moscow,  and  sold  to  a  crafty  speculator  her 
estate,  on  which  Pigasoff  had  just  made  some  improve- 
ments. Wounded  to  the  quick  by  this  last  blow,  he 
brought  a  suit  against  his  wife,  which  he  lost.  So  now  he 
lived  alone,  visiting  his  neighbors,  whom  he  laughed  at  to 
their  face,  and  who  received  him  with  an  affected  good- 
humor,  although  they  were  never  very  much  afraid  of  him. 
He  never  read  a  line.  He  owned  about  a  hundred  serfs  \ 
his  peasants  were  never  ill-treated. 

"  Ah,  Constantine !  "  said  Daria  Michaelovna,  as  Pan- 
dalewski  entered  the  room ;  "  is  Alexandrina  coming  ?  " 


Dimitri  Roudine.  31 

"  Alexandra  Paulovna  told  me  to  thank  you,  and  to  tell 
you  it  would  give  her  great  pleasure  to  accept  your  invi- 
tation," answered  Constantine  Diomiditch,  bowing  right 
and  left,  and  running  his  white,  plump  hand,  with  the  nails 
cut  to  a  point,  through  his  carefully  arranged  hair. 

"  And  is  Volinzoff  coming  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is  coming." 

"  So  then,  Africanus  Simeonovitch,"  continued  Daria, 
turning  towards  Pigasoff,  "  you  think  all  young  women  are 
affected  ?  " 

Pigasoff's  lips  contracted  a  little  on  one  side,  and  his 
elbows  twitched  nervously. 

"  I  say,"  he  began  deliberately  —  he  always  spoke 
slowly  and  distinctly  when  he  was  most  malicious  —  "I 
say  that  young  women  in  general  —  I  of  course  do  not 
include  the  present  company  "  — 

"  That  does  not  prevent  you  from  doing  so  in  your 
thoughts,"  interrupted  Daria  Michaelovna. 

"  I  pass  them  over  in  silence,"  answered  Pigasoff.  "  In 
general,  all  girls  are  extremely  affected  in  the  expression 


32  Dimitri  Roudinc. 

of  their  feelings.  If  a  girl  is  frightened,  for  example,  or 
delighted,  or  sorry,  the  first  thing  she  does  is  to  give  a 
graceful  bend  to  her  body  "  (here  Pigasoff  twisted  himself 
awkwardly,  and  extended  his  arms)  ;  "  then  she  screams 
*  Ah  1 '  or  she  bursts  out  laughing  or  crying.  Once,  how 
ever "  (and  here  he  burst  out  laughing),  "  I  managed  to 
get  a  genuine  expression  of  emotion  from  a  remarkably 
affected  girl." 

"  How  did  that  happen  ?  " 

Pigasoff's  eyes  lit  up. 

"  From  behind,  I  poked  her  in  the  side  with  a  stake. 
How  she  shrieked !  '  Bravo,  bravo ! '  cried  I.  «  That  was 
the  voice  of  nature  ;  that  was  a  natural  cry !  You  must 
keep  to  that  in  future.' " 

They  all  burst  out  laughing. 

"  What  nonsense  you  are  talking,  Africanus !  "  cried 
Daria  Michaelovna.  "  Do  you  think  I  will  believe  you 
poked  a  girl  in  the  side  with  a  stake  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  stake,  upon  my  word !  a  very  large  stake, 
such  as  is  used  in  the  defence  of  a  fort." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  33 

"  Mais  c'est  une  horreur  ce  que  vous  dites  la,  Monsieur  !  n 
cried  Mademoiselle  Boncourt,  casting  a  serious  glance  at 
the  boys,  who  were  roaring  with  laughter. 

"  Don't  believe  him,"  said  Daria  ;  "  don't  you  know  him 
yet  ?  " 

The  irritated  French  lady,  however,  could  not  at  once 
control  her  anger,  and  she  kept  muttering  between  her 
teeth. 

"  You  may  believe  me  or  not,  as  you  please,"  continued 
Pigasoff  calmly.  "  I  assure  you,  however,  that  I  have  told 
only  the  exact  truth.  Who  can  know  about  it  so  well  as  I 
do  ?  Then  perhaps  you  will  not  believe  that  our  neighbor 
Helen  Tcheponzoff  told  me  herself  —  mark  my  words,  told 
me  herself  —  that  she  had  murdered  her  own  nephew." 

"  Another  of  your  inventions !  " 

"  Excuse  me,  excuse  me !  Listen,  and  judge  for  \  ourself. 
Observe  that  I  have  no  wish  to  malign  her ;  I  like  her  as 
much  as  one  can  like  a  woman.  The  almanac  is  the  only 
book  to  be  found  in  her  house,  and  she  can't  read  except 

aloud.     Then,  too,  this  exercise  throws  her  into  a  perspira- 
3 


34  Dimitri  Roudine. 

tion,  and  she  says  it  makes  her  eyes  feel  as  if  they  were 
going  to  drop  out  of  her  head.  In  a  word,  she  is  an  excel- 
lent woman,  and  she  does  not  starve  her  servants;  why 
should  I  misrepresent  her  ?  " 

"  Come,  come  1 "  said  Daria  ;  "  our  Africanus  Simeon- 
ovitch  has  got  on  his  hobby.  He'll  not  get  off  again  be- 
fore evening." 

"  My  hobby  !  —  women  have  three,  from  which  they 
never  get  off,  except  perhaps  when  they  are  asleep." 

"  What  are  those  three  ?  " 

*'  Recrimination,  allusion,  and  reproach." 

"  But,  Africanus  Simeonovitch,"  said  Daria,  "  you  must 
have  some  reason  for  being  so  bitter  against  women. 
Some  one  must  have  "  — 

"  Offended  me,  do  you  mean  ?  "  interrupted  Pigasoff. 

Daria  was  a  little  embarrassed ;  she  remembered  Piga- 
eoff's  unhappy  marriage,  and  she  simply  nodded  her  head. 

"  It  is  true,  a  woman  did  offend  me,"  continued  Pigasoff. 
*  And  yet  she  was  a  good,  a  very  good  woman." 

«  Who  was  it  ? ' 


Dimitri  Roudine.  35 

"  My  mother,"  answered  Pigasoff  in  a  lower  tone. 

"Your  mother?  How  could  she  have  given  you  of- 
fence?" 

"  By  bringing  me  into  the  world." 

Daria  frowned.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  she  said,  "  that  our 
conversation  has  taken  a  turn  which  is  not  very  amusing. 
Constantine,  play  us  that  new  fantaisie  of  Thalberg's. 
Perhaps  the  sound  of  music  will  pacify  you,  Africanus. 
Orpheus  controlled  the  savage  beasts." 

Constantine  seated  himself  at  the  piano  and  played  the 
piece  very  well.  Natalie  at  first  listened  attentively,  but 
soon  she  resumed  her  work. 

"  Merci ;  c'est  charmant,"  said  Daria ;  "  I  am  very  fond  of 
Thalberg.  //  est  si  distingue.  What  are  you  thinking 
about,  Africanus  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  he  slowly,  "  that  there  are  three  , 
sorts  of  egoists :  those  who  live  themselves  and  let  others 
live,  those  who  live  themselves  and  don't  let  others  live, 
and  finally  those  who  neither  live  themselves  nor  let  others 
live.    Most  women  belong  to  the  third  class." 


\ 


36  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  How  amiable  !  I  am  surprised  at  one  thing,  Africanug 
Sirneonovitcli,  and  that  is  your  blind  confidence  in  your 
own  opinions,  as  if  you  could  never  be  mistaken." 

*'  By  no  means.  I  too  can  make  mistakes  ;  all  men  are 
liable  to  error.  But  do  you  know  what  the  difference  is 
between  the  mistakes  of  men  and  those  of  women  ?  You 
don't  know  ?  I  will  tell  you.  A  man  may  say,  for  exam- 
ple, that  twice  two  makes,  not  four,  but  five  ;  a  woman  will 
say  that  twice  two  makes  —  a  wax-candle." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  heard  that  before.  But 
allow  me  to  ask  you  what  connection  there  is  between 
your  thought  about  the  three  sorts  of  egoism  and  the 
music  which  we  have  just  heard  ?  " 

"  None  at  all ;  I  did  not  even  hear  the  music." 

"  Well,  my  friend,  I  see  '  You  are  an  incorrigible,  I 
withdraw,'  "  answered  Daria,  altering  a  line  of  Griboiedoff. 
"  What  do  you  like  then,  if  music  has  no  charm  for  you  ? 
Possibly  literature  ?  " 

"  I  like  literature,  but  not  thaf ,  of  the  present  day." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 


Dimitri  Roudine.  37 

"  I  will  tell  you.  A  short  time  ago  I  met  a  gentleman 
on  the  ferry  over  the  Oka.  On  the  other  side  we  came  to 
a  steep  shore ;  the  carriage  had  to  be  taken  out  by  hand. 
This  gentleman's  carriage  was  extremely  heavy.  While 
the  boatmen  were  at  work  dragging  it  ashore,  he  remained 
on  board  the  ferry-boat,  groaning  so  that  I  almost  pitied 
him.  '  There,'  said  I,  '  is  a  new  application  of  the  division 
of  labor  :  this  gentleman  is  like  modern  literature  ;  others 
struggle  and  do  the  work,  and  it  keeps  up  a  groaning.' " 

Daria  Michaelovna  smiled. 

"  And  that  is  what  is  called  the  literary  production  of 
our  day,"  continued  the  indefatigable  Pigasoff ;  "  a  profound 
sympathy  for  social  questions,  and  Heaven  knows  what  else 
—  oh !  I  detest  these  high-sounding  phrases !  " 

"  But  then,  women,  whom  you  are  forever  attacking,  they 
at  least  do  not  use  any  high-sounding  phrases." 

Pigasoff  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  they  don't  use  them,  it  is  because  they  don't  know 
how." 

Daria  Michaelovna  colored  slightly. 


38  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"You  are  beginning  to  be  impertinent,  Africanus  Sim- 
eonovitch  !  "  she  said,  with  a  forced  smile. 

There  was  a  moment  of  perfect  stillness  in  the  room. 

"  Where  is  Zolotonocha  ? "  one  of  the  boys  suddenly 
asked  Bassistoff. 

"  In  the  province  of  Poltara,  my  dear  boy,"  answered 
Pigasoff,  "  in  the  centre  of  Little  Russia."  He  was  glad  to 
give  another  turn  to  the  conversation.  "  We  were  speak- 
ing about  literature,"  he  continued  ;  "  if  I  had  any  money 
to  spare,  I  should  become  a  Little  Russian  poet." 

"  That  is  something  new ;  a  fine  poet  you  would  make," 
answered  Daria  Michaelovna ;  "  do  you  know  Little  Rus- 
sian?" 

"  Not  at  all ;  but  that  makes  no  difference." 

"  No  difference,  and  why  not  ?  " 

"It's  very  plain.     You  have  only  to  take  a  sheet  of 

paper,  and  write  at  the  top  '  Duma ; ' l  then  you  string 

together  a  number  of  meaningless  words,  put  in  a  few 

Little  Russian  interjections,  such  as  'Woropaiel  hopp  I 

*  The  name  of  the  folksongs  of  Little  Russia.  —  Ta. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  39 

hopp ! '  or  something  of  that  sort,  and  your  poem  is 
done.  Then  you  send  it  to  the  printer.  The  Little 
Russian  will  read  it,  drop  his  head  in  his  hands,  and 
you  may  be  sure  he  will  weep.  He  has  such  a  sus- 
ceptible soul !  " 

"But  for  Heaven's  sake,"  cried  Bassistoff,  "what  are 
you  talking  about  ?  It  hasn't  common  sense.  I  have  lived 
in  Little  Russia,  and  I  know  the  language.  *  Woropaie, 
hopp  !  hopp ! '  is  perfect  nonsense." 

"  Very  likely,  but  the  Little  Russian  will  cry,  all  the 
same.  You  say  their  language :  is  there  a  Little  Russian 
language  ?  I  once  asked  a  Little  Russian  to  translate  a 
sentence  for  me,  and  how  do  you  think  he  did  it  ?  He 
repeated  the  words  just  as  I  had  pronounced  them,  except 
that  everywhere  he  changed  every  i  into  a  French  u.  Is 
that  a  separate  language,  or  what  is  it  ?  Before  I'd  agree 
to  that,  I  would  bray  my  best  friend  in  a  mortar." 

Bassistoff  was  about  to  answer. 

"  Don't  mind  him,"  cried  Daria ;  "  you  know  he  ii 
always  uttering  paradoxes." 


40  Dimitri  Roudine. 

Pigasoff  smiled  maliciously.     A  servant  entered  to  an 
nounce  Alexandra  Paulovna  and  her  brother. 

Daria  arose  to  receive  her  guests. 

"  How  are  you,  Alexandrina  ?  "  she  said.  "  How  kind 
of  you  to  come.  How  are  you,  Sergius  Paulovitch  ?  " 

Volinzoff  pressed  Daria's  hand,  and  went  towards 
Natalie. 

"  Well,  and  your  new  acquaintance,  the  baron,  —  is  he 
going  to  come  to-day  ?  "  asked  Pigasoff. 

"  Yes,  he  is  coming." 

"  He  is  said  to  be  a  great  philosopher ;  he  is  spouting 
Hegel  all  the  time." 

Daria  did  not  reply.  She  gave  Alexandra  a  place  on  the 
sofa,  and  sat  down  by  her  side. 

"  Philosophy !  "  continued  Pigasoff,  "  a  lofty  point  of 
view !  I  am  tired  to  death  of  this  lofty  point  of  view, 
And  what  can  you  see  from  such  a  lofty  point  ?  Does  any 
one  climb  a  tower  to  look  at  the  house  he  is  going  to  buy  ?  " 

"  Is  not  the  baron  going  to  bring  you  an  article  ? " 
asked  Alexandra. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  41 

"Yes;  an  article,"  answered  Daria  with  an  affecta- 
tion of  indifference,  "  on  the  commercial  and  industrial 
relations  of  Russia.  But  don't  be  frightened ;  we  are 
not  going  to  read  it  now.  It  was  not  for  that  I  invited 
you.  Le  baron  est  aussi  aimdble  que  savant.  He  speaks 
such  good  Russian  I  (Test  un  vrai  torrent  .  .  .  .  il  vous 
entraine  !  " 

"  He  speaks  Russian  so  well,"  muttered  Pigasoff,  "  that 
he  has  to  be  praised  in  French." 

"  Go  on  muttering,  Africanus  ;  it  suits  your  bushy  hair. 
But  why  doesn't  he  come  ?  But  why  shouldn't  we  all  go 
out  into  the  garden  ?  We  have  nearly  an  hour  before  din- 
ner, and  the  day  is  lovely." 

They  all  arose  and  went  into  the  garden. 

Daria's  garden  extended  to  the  river.  It  contained 
many  dark,  odorous  groves  of  old  lime  trees,  with  clumps 
of  acacia  and  lilac  in  the  green  expanse. 

Volinzoff,  Natalie,  and  Mademoiselle  Boncourt  entered 
the  thick  shade.  Volinzoff  walked  by  the  side  of  the 
young  girl,  but  in  silence. 


42  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  to-day  ?  "  Volinzoff  at  lasi 
asked,  twirling  his  brown  moustache. 

He  was  very  like  his  sister,  though  his  face  was  less 
animated,  and  his  soft,  drooping  eyes  had  a  melancholy 
expression. 

"Not  much,"  answered  Natalie.  "I  have  been  listen- 
ing to  Pigasoff's  abuse,  I  did  some  embroidery,  and  I 
read." 

"  And  what  did  you  read  ?  " 

"  I  read  —  the  History  of  the  Crusades,"  said  Natalie, 
with  a  little  hesitation. 

Volinzoff  looked  at  her. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  after  a  pause;  "that  must  be  interest- 
ing." 

He  plucked  a  twig  from  a  tree  and  fanned  himself  with 
it.  They  walked  some  twenty  paces  further. 

"Who  is  this  baron  whose  acquaintance  your  mother 
has  made  ?  "  asked  Volinzoff  again. 

"  He  is  a  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber.  He  has  jus« 
arrived.  Mamma  thinks  very  highly  of  him." 


.    Dimitri  Roudine.  43 

"  Your  mother  is  very  ready  to  follow  her  first  impres- 
sions." 

"  A  proof  that  her  heart  is  still  young." 

"  Of  course.  I  shall  soon  send  you  your  horse.  He  is 
almost  entirely  broken.  I  want  to  teach  it  to  gallop,  and 
I  shall  succeed." 

"  Merci.  But  really  you  embarrass  me.  You  are  break- 
ing him  yourself.  They  say  that  is  very  hard." 

"  You  know,  Natalie  Alexievna,  that  to  do  you  the 
slightest  service,  lam  ready  —  I  should — but  not  such 
trifles"  — 

He  grew  extremely  confused. 

Natalie  glanced  at  him  kindly,  and  thanked  him  again. 

"You  know,"  said  Sergius  Paulovitch,  after  a  long 
pause,  "  there  is  nothing  —  but  why  say  it  ?  You  under- 
ftand  me." 

At  that  moment  the  bell  rang. 

"Ah,  the  dinner  bell!"  said  Mademoiselle  Boncourt; 
let  us  go  in." 

"  Quel  dommage"  thought  the  old  French  lady  to  herself 


44  Dimitri  Roudine. 

as  she  went  up  the  terrace  steps  behind  Natalie  and  Vol- 
inzoff,  "  quel  dommage  que  ce  charmant  garpon  ait  si  pen  de 
ressources  dan  conversation,"  which  may  be  translated, 
You  are  very  nice,  my  dear  fellow,  but  a  trifle  stupid. 

The  baron  did  not  come  to  dinner.  They  waited  half 
an  hour  for  him.  At  table  the  conversation  flagged. 
Sergius  Paulovitch  did  nothing  but  look  at  Natalie,  by 
whom  he  sat,  and  keep  her  glass  always  filled  with  water. 
Pandalewski  tried  in  vain  to  entertain  his  neighbor,  Alex- 
andra Paulovna.  He  almost  melted  with  sweetness,  while 
she  could  hardly  keep  from  yawning.  Bassistoff  rolled 
little  bread-balls,  and  thought  of  nothing ;  even  Pigasoff 
was  silent,  and  Daria  said  to  him  that  he  was  not  in  good 
humor  on  that  day.  He  answered  sullenly,  "  When  am  I 
in  good  humor  ?  It  is  not  my  way ;  "  and  he  added  with  a 
bitter  smile,  "  be  patient ;  I  am  only  kvass,  plain  Russian 
kvass,1  but  your  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber  "  — 

"  Bravo  I  "  cried  Daria,  "  Pigasoff  is  actually  growing 
jealous  in  anticipation !  " 

1  A  fermented  drink  very  common  in  Russia.  —  Ta. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  45 

But  Pigasoff  did  not  answer ;  he  merely  looked  down 
gloomily.  Seven  o'clock  struck,  and  they  all  went  back 
to  the  parlor. 

"  It  seems  he  is  not  coming,"  said  Daria  Michaelovna. 

At  that  very  moment  there  was  heard  the  rolling  0f  a 
carriage.  A  little  tarantars  entered  the  court-yard,  and  a 
few  minutes  later  a  servant  came  into  the  room,  bringing 
to  Daria  Michaelovna  a  letter  on  a  silver  salver.  She  read 
it  through,  and  turning  to  the  servant,  asked  him,  "  Where 
is  the  gentleman  who  brought  the  letter  ?  " 

"  He  is  in  the  carriage.     Shall  I  bring  him  in  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  ask  him  to  come  in." 

The  servant  went  out. 

"  Isn't  it  vexatious !  Only  think,"  continued  Daria 
Michaelovna,  "  the  baron  nas  been  ordered  to  return  to 
St.  Petersburg.  He  has  sent  me  his  article  by  his  friend, 
a  Mr.  Roudine.  The  baron  was  going  to  introduce  him, 
himself  —  he  speaks  very  highly  of  him.  But  how  annoy- 
ing it  is.  I  hoped  the  baron  would  spend  some  time  here.* 

"  Dimitri  Nicolaitch  Roudine,"  announced  the  servant. 


nr. 


THERE  entered  the  room  a  man  about  thirty-five  years 
old,  tall,  but  somewhat  round-shouldered,  with  thick,  curly 
hair,  a  dark  complexion,  and  irregular  but  expressive  and 
intelligent  features.  His  eyes,  dark  blue  in  color,  were 
bright,  his  nose  broad  and  straight ;  his  lips  were  cleanly 
cut.  His  clothes  were  not  new,  and  they  were  a  trifle  small 
for  him,  as  if  he  had  grown  since  they  had  been  bought. 

He  stepped  quickly  towards  Daria  Michaelovna,  made 
her  a  low  bow,  and  said  that  he  had  long  been  anxious  to 
have  the  honor  of  her  acquaintance,  and  that  his  friend, 
the  baron,  regretted  extremely  that  he  had  been  prevented 
from  coming  to  take  leave  of  her. 

Roudine's  thin  voice  was  not  in  keeping  with  either  his 
height  or  his  broad  chest. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  47 

"Pray  be  seated.  I  am  delighted  to  make  your  ac- 
quaintance," said  Daria,  and  after  she  had  introduced 
him  to  the  assembled  company  she  asked  him  if  he  lived 
in  that  part  of  the  country,  or  whether  he  was  merely  a 
visitor. 

"  I  live  in  the  province  of  T ,"  answered  Roudine, 

holding  his  hat  on  his  knees ;  "  I  have  been  only  a  short 
time  here.  I  came  here  on  business,  and  I  am  now  living 
in  the  town." 

"With  whom?" 

"  With  the  doctor.    He  is  an  old  college  friend  of  mine." 

"  Ah  !  at  the  doctor's.  Every  one  speaks  very  highly  of 
him.  He  is  said  to  be  a  very  skilful  physician.  Have  you 
known  the  baron  long  ?  " 

"  I  met  him  last  whiter  at  Moscow,  and  I  have  spent 
about  a  week  with  him." 

"  He  is  an  extremely  intelligent  man." 

"  Yes,  very  intelligent." 

Daria  raised  to  her  face  her  handkerchief,  which  wag 
icented  with  cologne. 


48  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  Are  you  in  the  government-service  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Who?    I?" 

"Yes,  you." 

"  No ;  I  have  resigned." 

Then  followed  a  short  silence,  after  which  the  conver- 
sation became  general. 

"  Allow  me  to  ask  you,"  began  Pigasoff,  turning  towards 
Roudine,  "  whether  you  know  the  contents  of  the  article 
which  the  baron  has  sent  ?  " 

« I  do." 

"  It  is  about  the  commerce,  or  rather,  the  relations  of 
manufactures  to  commerce  in  our  country ;  that,  I  think, 
is  what  you  were  pleased  to  say,  Daria  Michaelovna  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  subject,"  said  Daria,  raising  her  hand 
to  her  head. 

"  I  am  of  course  a  very  poor  judge  of  such  matters," 
continued  Pigasoff,  "  but  I  must  say  that  the  very  title  of 
the  article  seems  to  me  —  how  can  I  put  it  delicately  ?  — 
very  obscure  and  confused." 

«  How  so  ?  " 


Dimitri  Roudine.  49 

Pigasoff  smiled,  and  glanced  at  Daria  Michaelovna. 

"  Does  it  seem  clear  to  you  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  his  fox- 
like  face  towards  Roudine. 

"  To  me  ?     Why,  yes,  of  course." 

"  Indeed.     Naturally  you  know  better  than  I  do." 

"  Does  your  head  ache  ?  "  asked  Alexandra  Paulovna 
of  Daria  Michaelovna. 

" No,  it's  nothing  —  c'est  nerveux" 

"  Allow  me  to  ask  you,"  again  began  Pigasoff  in  a 
slightly  nasal  voice,  "  does  your  acquaintance,  Baron  Muf- 
fel  —  that  is  his  name,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  You  are  right." 

"  Does  he  occupy  himself  especially  with  political  econ- 
omy, or  does  he  devote  to  this  interesting  study  only  the 
leisure  hours  which  he  takes  from  his  worldly  pleasures 
and  his  numerous  occupations  ?  " 

Roudine  looked  at  Pigasoff  attentively. 

"  In  this  subject  the  baron  is  only  a  dilettante,"  he  an- 
swered, blushing  slightly,  "  but  there  is  a  great  deal  that 

is  true  and  interesting  in  his  article." 

4 


50  Dimitri  Roudine. 

v  "  I  am  unable  to  discuss  that  with  you,  for  I  am  wholly 
ignorant  of  his  work.  But,  may  I  ask  you,  is  his  article 
more  concerned  with  general  principles  than  with  facts  ?  " 

"  It  contains  facts,  as  well  as  theories  which  rest  upon 
the  facts." 

"  Indeed.  In  my  opinion  —  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  may 
say  a  word ;  I  spent  three  years  at  Dorpat  —  all  these  so- 
called  general  principles,  these  theories,  and  systems  — 
excuse  my  frankness ;  I  am  a  provincial,  and  am  not  ac- 
customed to  mince  matters  —  are  absolutely  useless.  They 
are  all  abstractions  invented  to  deceive  people.  Give  us 
facts,  gentlemen,  that  is  all  we  ask.'* 

"  Indeed,"  answered  Roudine,  "  but  ought  not  the  mean- 
ing of  the  facts  to  be  explained  ?  " 

"  These  universal  theories  !• "  continued  Pigasoff, "  I  can- 
not endure  these  theories,  points  of  view,  and  conclusions 
They  all  rest  on  so-called  convictions.  Every  one  talks  of 
his  convictions,  asks  others  to  respect  them,  to  adopt  them 
Oh  1 "  and  he  shook  his  fjst  in  the  air.  Pandalewski  began 
to  laugh, 


Dimitri  Roudine.  51 

"  Very  good,"  said  Roudine ;  "  so  according  to  you  there 
are  no  such  things  as  convictions  ?  " 

"  No,  there  are  none." 

"  That  is  your  conviction  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Well,  how  can  you  say  then  that  there  are  none  ?  You 
have  just  expressed  one." 

All  who  were  in  the  room  smiled  and  looked  at  one  an- 
other. 

"  Just  allow  me  "  —  began  Pigasoff  again. 

But  Daria  Michaelovna  clapped  her  hands  and  cried, 
"  Bravo,  bravo  !  Pigasoff  is  beaten !  "  while  she  took  Rou- 
dine's  hat  from  his  hands. 

"  Wait  a  moment  before  you  express  your  joy ;  have  a 
little  patience,"  said  Pigasoff  peevishly.  "  It's  not  enough 
to  make  a  joke  with  an  air  of  settling  the  whole  question. 
It  must  be  disproved,  refuted,  —  but  we  are  forgetting  the 
subject  of  our  discussion." 

"  Excuse  me,  in  your  turn,"  began  Roudine  coolly.  "  The 
matter  lies  in  a  nutshell.  You  do  not  believe  in  the  util- 


52  Dimitri  Roudine. 

ity  of  general  theories;  you  have  no  belief  in  convic- 
tions." 

"I  don't  believe  in  them  —  I  don't  believe  in  them, 
I  don't  believe  in  anything." 

"  Very  good.    You  are  a  sceptic." 

"I  don't  see  the  need  of  using  such  a  high-sounding 
word.  Still"  — 

"  Don't  interrupt !  "  cried  Daria. 

"  The  fight  has  begun,"  said  Pandalewski  to  himself. 

"  That  word  expresses  my  meaning,"  continued  Rou- 
dine. "  You  understand  it,  why  should  I  not  use  it  ?  You 
believe  in  nothing.  Why,  then,  do  you  believe  in  facts  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  Oh,  that's  delightful.  A  fact  is  something  fa- 
miliar ;  every  one  knows  what  facts  are.  I  judge  of  them 
from  experience,  by  my  own  senses." 

"  But  your  senses  may  be  deceived.  Your  senses  tell 
you  that  the  sun  revolves  around  the  earth,  or  —  or  per- 
haps you  do  not  agree  with  Copernicus  ?  Perhaps  you  do 
not  believe  in  him  ?  " 

A  smile  lit  up  every  face ;  the  eyes  of  all  were  turned 


Dimitri  Roudine.  53 

towards  Roudine.  Every  one  thought,  "  He's  an  intelli  - 
gent  man." 

"You  turn  everything  to  ridicule,"  said  PigasofF 
"  That  is  very  original,  but  it  does  not  advance  matters  at 
all." 

"  There  was,  unfortunately,  very  little  originality  in  what 
I  have  been  saying,"  answered  Roudine.  "  It  is  all  per- 
fectly trite,  it  has  been  said  thousands  of  times.  But  that 
is  not  the  question  "  — 

"  What  is,  then  ?  "  broke  in  Pigasoff  rather  impudently. 
It  was  his  habit,  when  discussing  any  question,  to  begin  by 
ridiculing  his  adversary  ;  then  he  would  grow  brutal,  and 
finally  he  would  retire  in  sulky  silence. 

"  The  question  is  this,"  continued  Roudine.  "  I  confess 
I  cannot  listen  without  pain  to  the  attacks  of  intelligent 
people  on  "  — 

"  On  systems,"  interrupted  Pigasoff. 

"Well,  as  you  please,  on  systems.  Why  do  you  so 
especially  dislike  that  word  ?  Every  system  is  based  on 
a  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  life  "  — 


54  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"Yes,  but  how  is  one  to  know  them,  to  discovel 
them  ?  " 

"  Allow  me.  Naturally  they  are  not  accessible  to  every 
one,  and  man  is  liable  to  mistake ;  but  you  will  probably 
agree  with  me  that  Newton,  for  instance,  discovered  some 
of  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  universe.  It  is  true  that 
he  was  a  man  of  genius,  but  the  discoveries  of  a  genius  are 
great,  just  in  proportion  as  they  are  accessible  to  every- 
body. This  tendency  to  seek  for  general  principles  among 
particular  phenomena  is  one  of  the  main  characteristics  of 
the  human  mind,  and  our  whole  civilization  "  — 

"  So  that  is  what  you  are  coming  to,"  again  interrupted 
Pigasoff  with  a  languid  voice.  "  I  am  a  practical  man,  and 
averse  to  confusing  myself  with  this  metaphysical  hair- 
splitting." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right.  But  yet  you  will  notice  that 
this  desire  to  be  merely  a  practical  man,  is,  after  all,  a  sort 
of  system,  a  theory"  — 

"  Civilization,  you  said,"  continued  Pigasoff  without  list- 
ening to  him.  "  You  are  trying  to  overcome  us  with  that 


Dimitri  Roudine.  55 

word.  What  good  is  this  boasted  civilization  to  us  ?  Ai 
for  me.  I  would  not  give  a  farthing  for  it." 

"  But  you  are  arguing  very  poorly,  Africanus  Simeono* 
vitch,"  said  Daria  Michaelovna,  who  at  heart  was  much 
pleased  with  the  calmness  and  unbroken  politeness  of  her 
new  guest.  "  C*est  un  homme  comme  il  faut"  she  thought, 
looking  kindly  at  Roudine.  "1  must  make  friends  with 
him."  These  last  words  she  said  to  herself  in  Russian. 

"  1  shall  not  undertake  the  defence  of  civilization,"  con- 
tinued Roudine,  after  a  moment  of  silence.  "  It  does  not 
need  my  defence.  You  don't  like  it,  —  that's  a  matter  of 
taste.  Besides,  the  discussion  would  lead  us  too  far.  Only 
allow  me  to  remind  you  of  an  old  proverb  :  *  You  are  an- 
gry, Jupiter,  therefore  you  are  wrong.'  I  mean  that  all 
these  attacks  on  systems,  general  theories,  etc.,  are  espe- 
cially to  be  regretted,  because  in  denying  the  systems  one 
generally  denies  knowledge  and  science,  and  loses  the  con- 
fidence which  they  inspire ;  that  is  to  say,  confidence  in 
one's  self,  in  one's  own  power.  But  human  beings  need 
this  confidence ;  their  impressions  alone  can  never  satisfy 


56  Dimitri  Roudine. 

them.  It  is  a  sad  Jung  for  them  to  fear  thought  and  not 
to  believe  in  it.  Scepticism  only  leads  to  sterility  and 
weakness"  — 

"  Those  are  mere  words,"  muttered  Pigasoff. 

"  Possibly ;  but  permit  me  to  remark  that  by  saying, 
*  Those  are  mere  words/  we  often  try  to  get  rid  of  the  ne- 
cessity of  saying  anything  more  sensible  than  those  same 
words." 

"  How  so  ?  "  asked  Pigasoff,  knitting  his  brows. 

"  You  understand  what  I  mean,"  answered  Roudine  with 
an  involuntary  impatience,  which  he  at  once  repressed ;  "  I 
repeat  it,  if  a  man  has  no  fixed  principles  in  which  he  be- 
lieves, if  he  has  no  firm  ground  on  which  to  rest,  how  will 
he  be  able  to  give  an  account  of  the  needs,  the  destiny,  the 
future  of  his  country  ?  How  can  he  know  what  he  has 
himself  to  do,  if"  — 

"  I  surrender  at  once,"  suddenly  said  Pigasoff,  bowing 
and  stepping  to  one  side  without  looking  at  any  one. 

Roudine  looked  at  him,  smiled  slightly,  and  was  silent. 

"  Ah,  he  has  taken  to  flight,"  began  Daria  Michaelovna, 


Dimitri  Roudine.  s  .  ^'57 

-I/       '-v/, 

"  Don't  let  that  disturb  you,  Dimitri  —  excuse  me,*'  she 
added  with  a  pleasant  smile,  "  what  was  your  father's 
name  ?  " 

"Nicholas." 

"  Don't  let  that  disturb  you,  Dimitri  Nicolaitch.  We 
all  see  how  the  matter  stands.  He  pretends  he  is  unwill- 
ing to  discuss  any  more  with  you  ;  but  the  truth  is,  Jie  feels 
that  he  is  unable.  But  draw  nearer,  and  let  us  talk." 

Roudine  brought  his  chair  forward. 

"  How  is  it  that  we  have  never  met  before  ?  "  continued 
Daria  Michaelovna.  "  That  surprises  me.  Have  you 
read  this  book ?  C'est  De  Tocquevttle,  vous  savez" 

Daria  handed  the  French  book  to  Roudine.  He  took 
it,  turned  over  a  few  pages,  and  said,  after  laying  it  down 
on  the  table,  that  he  had  not  read  that  volume  of  De 
Tocqueville,  but  that  he  had  thought  a  great  deal  about 
the  questions  it  treated.  Conversation  began  at  once.  At 
first  Roudine  seemed  to  hesitate,  as  if  he  could  not  find 
words  to  express  his  thoughts,  but  gradually  he  became 
excited  and  eloquent.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  his  voice 


58  Dimitri  Roudine. 

alone  was  to  be  heard.  They  all  collected  around  him, 
Pigasoff  remained,  however,  in  a  corner  near  the  fire-place. 
Roudine  talked  intelligently,  with  enthusiasm  and  good 
sense  ;  he  showed  much  knowledge  and  wide  reading.  No 
one  had  expected  to  find  him  in  any  way  a  remarkable 
man  —  he  was  so  poorly  dressed  —  they  had  never  heard  of 
him  before.  It  seemed  strange,  even  incomprehensible,  to 
all,  that  so  intelligent  a  man  could  appear  so  unexpectedly 
there  in  the  country.  So  much  the  more  did  he  surprise 
them  ;  indeed,  he  can  be  said  to  have  fascinated  them  all, 
beginning  with  Daria  Michaelovna.  She  was  proud  of 
her  new  acquaintance,  and  she  was  already  meditating  be- 
forehand how  she  should  introduce  Roudine  into  society. 
In  spite  of  her  age  there  was  a  great  deal  of  youthful,  nay 
almost  childish,  enthusiasm  in  her  first  impressions.  Alex- 
andra Paulovna,  to  tell  the  truth,  had  understood  but  little 
of  Roudine's  conversation,  but  she  was  no  less  surprised 
and  delighted.  Her  brother  felt  very  much  as  she  did. 
Pandalewski  watched  Daria,  and  grew  jealous.  Pigasoff 
said  to  himself,  "  For  fifty  rubles  I  could  buy  a  nightin- 


Dimitri  Roudine.  59 

gale  which  would  sing  better."  But  the  moit  vividly  im« 
pressed  were  Bassistoff  and  Natalie.  Bassistoff  scarcely 
breathed ;  he  sat  the  whole  time  with  open  mouth  and 
staring  eyes,  listening  as  he  had  never  listened  before  in 
his  life.  As  for  Natalie,  her  face  was  flushed,  and  her 
look,  which  was  fastened  on  Roudine,  had  become  darker 
and  more  glowing  at  the  same  time. 

"  What  handsome  eyes  he  has  1 "  whispered  Volinzoff  to 
her. 

"  Yes,  very  handsome." 

"  But  what  a  pity  that  his  hands  are  so  large  and  red." 

Natalie  made  no  reply. 

Tea  was  brought  in.  The  conversation  became  more 
general,  but  from  the  sudden  silence  of  every  one  the  mo- 
ment that  Roudine  opened  his  lips,  it  was  easy  to  judge  of 
the  impressions  he  had  produced.  It  suddenly  occurred  t« 
Daria  Michaelovna  that  she  would  draw  Pigasoff  out  a 
little.  She  stepped  up  to  him  and  whispered,  "  Why  do 
you  keep  so  quiet,  and  do  nothing  but  smile  so  contemptu- 
ously ?  Try  to  attack  him  again."  Then  without  await- 


60  Dimitri  Roudine. 

ing  his  answer,  she  made  a  sign  with  her  hand  to  Rou- 
dine. 

"  There  is  one  quality  of  his  which  you  don't  know," 
said  she,  pointing  to  Pigasoff ;  "  he  is  a  terrible  misogynist ; 
he  is  always  attacking  women.  I  wish  you  would  try  to 
convert  him." 

Without  meaning  it,  Roudine  looked  at  Pigasoff  from 
head  to  foot ;  he  was  at  least  a  head  taller.  This  made 
Pigasoff  extremely  angry  ;  his  sallow  face  grew  pale. 

"  Daria  Michaelovna  is  mistaken,"  he  answered,  with  an 
uncertain  voice.  "  I  don't  detest  women  especially,  but  the 
whole  human  race." 

"  What  could  have  given  you  such  a  bad  opinion  of  it?  " 
asked  Roudine. 

Pigasoff  looked  him  straight  in  the  face. 

"Probably  the  study  of  my  own  heart,  in  which  I 
discover  every  day  new  worthlessness.  I  judge  others 
by  myself.  I  am  perhaps  unjust,  and  I  am  worse  than 
the  rest.  But  what  would  you  have?  The  habit  is 
formed." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  6 1 

"I  understand  you,  and  I  sympathize  witk  you,"  an- 
swered Roudine.  "  What  noble  soul  has  not  felt  the  need 
of  humility  as  it  contemplated  itself?  But  ye^t  on«  should 
endeavor  to  escape  from  this  sad  condition." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  patent  of  nobility 
which  you  are  kind  enough  to  grant  my  soul,"  retorted 
Pigasoff,  "  but  I  don't  lament  my  condition.  It  is  not  so 
bad ;  and  even  if  I  knew  any  escape,  I'm  not  ao  sure  that  I 
should  make  use  of  it." 

"  But  that  is  the  same  thing  —  excuse  the  expression  — • 
as  preferring  one's  self-satisfaction  to  the  desire  of  living 
and  being  in  the  truth." 

"  Precisely,"  cried  Pigasoff ;  "  self-satisfaction  !  I  under- 
stand the  word,  and  you,  I  hope,  understand  it,  and  every- 
body else.  As  for  the  truth  —  where  is  it  ?  " 

"I  really  must  tell  you,  you  are  repeating  yourself," 
said  Daria  Michaelovna. 

Pigasoff  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  ask  where  is  the 
truth  ?  Even  philosophers  don't  know.  Kant  says,  « This 
is  it ; '  but  Hegel  replies,  <  No,  it's  this.'  " 


62  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  And  do  you  know  what  Hegel  says  about  it  ?  "  asked 
Roudine  without  raising  his  eyes. 

"  I  repeat  it,"  said  Pigasoff  with  warmth,  "  I  cannot  un- 
derstand what  the  truth  is.  In  my  opinion  there  is  none 
in  the  world ;  that  is  to  say,  the  word  is  there,  but  the 
thing  does  not  exist." 

"  For  shame  !  "  cried  Daria  Michaelovna.  "  You  ought  to 
be  ashamed  to  talk  in  that  way,  you  old  sinner.  There 
is  no  truth  in  the  world !  What  use  is  there  in  living, 
then  ?  " 

"  At  any  rate,"  answered  Pigasoff  with  bitterness,  "  it 
would  be  easier  for  you  to  live  without  truth  than  with- 
out your  cook  Stephen,  who  makes  such  good  soup.  And 
tell  me,  please,  what  need  have  you  of  truth  ?  It  does  not 
help  one  arrange  one's  ribbons." 

"  Such  jesting  is  not  answering,"  remarked  Daria  Mich- 
aelovna, "  especially  when  it  descends  to  abuse." 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  is  with  the  truth,  but  to  a  great 
many  people,  listening  to  it  is  painful,"  muttered  Pigasoff, 
withdrawing  to  his  corner. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  63 

As  for  Roudine,  lie  began  to  talk  about  self-love,  and  he 
spoke  of  it  very  intelligently.  He  proved  that  a  man  who 
lacked  it  was  of  no  use,  that  this  quality  is  the  "  lever  of 
Archimedes,"  by  means  of  which  the  world  can  be  moved  ; 
but  that,  at  the  same  time,  he  alone  deserves  the  name  of 
man  who  knows  how  to  control  his  self-love,  as  a  rider 
does  his  horse,  and  to  sacrifice  his  individuality  for  the 
general  good. 

"  Selfishness,"  he  concluded,  "  is  suicide.  The  selfish 
man  withers  like  a  lonely,  barren  tree;  but  a  self-love 
which  consists  in  a  striving  after  perfection  is  the  source 
of  all  greatness.  Yes,  man  ought  to  shatter  the  obstinate 
egoism  of  his  individuality,  in  order  to  be  able  to  give 
free  expression  to  himself." 

"  Can  you  lend  me  a  lead-pencil  ?  "  said  Pigasoff  to 
Bassistoff. 

"  A  pencil  —  what  for  ?" 

"  To  write  down  Mr.  Roudine's  last  sentence.  If  I  don't 
make  a  note  of  it  I  might  forget  it,  and  that  would  be  a 
great  pity.  It  ought  to  be  preserved." 


64  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  There  are  some  things  which  ought  not  to  be  laughed 
at  and  turned  to  ridicule,"  answered  Bassistoff  with  some 
warmth,  turning  his  back  on  Pigasoff. 

Meanwhile  Roudine  had  moved  towards  Natalie.  She 
arose,  while  her  face  indicated  her  embarrassment.  Volin- 
zoff,  who  was  sitting  by  her,  arose  too. 

"  Here  is  a  piano,"  said  Roudine  ;  "  do  you  play  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Natalie,  "but  there  is  Constantine 
Diomiditch,  who  plays  much  better  than  I  do." 

Pandalewski  raised  his  head  and  smiled. 

"  You  do  yourself  injustice,  Natalie  Alexievna.  I  really 
don't  play  any  better  than  you." 

"  Do  you  know  Schubert's  '  Erlkb'nig  '  ?  "  asked  Rou- 
dine. 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Daria  Michaelovna.  "  Go  to  the 
piano,  Constantine.  Are  you  fond  of  music,  Dimitri  Nico- 
laitch  ?  " 

Roudine  merely  bowed  slightly,  and  ran  his  hand  through 
las  hair,  as  if  he  were  ready  to  listen.  Constantine  began. 

.Natalie  stood  at  the  side  of  the  piano,  opposite  Roudine, 


Dimitri  Roiidine.  65 

whose  face  lit  up  at  the  first  notes.  His  dark-blue  eyes 
wandered  here  and  there,  occasionally  resting  for  a  mo- 
ment on  Natalie.  Constantine  stopped. 

Roudine  said  nothing.  He  walked  to  the  open  window. 
A  mist,  heavy  with  the  rich  fragrance  of  the  flowers,  hung 
like  a  veil  over  the  garden.  From  the  trees  breathed  a 
gentle,  refreshing  coolness.  The  stars  sparkled  slowly. 
Delicious  was  this  summer  night ;  calmness  covered  every- 
thing. Roudine  gazed  into  the  dark  garden  for  a  few 
moments  and  then  turned  round. 

"  To-night's  music  reminds  me  of  my  university  days  in 
Germany,  our  meetings,  our  serenades  "  — 

"  You  have  been  in  Germany  ?  "  asked  Daria  Michael- 
ovna. 

"  I  studied  a  year  at  Heidelberg,  and  almost  as  long  at 
Berlin." 

"  And  you  dressed  like  the  students  ?  I  understand 
they  have  a  peculiar  costume." 

"  At  Heidelberg  I  used  to  wear  high  boots  and  spurs, 

and  a  short  embroidered  coat.     I  also  used  to  let  my  hair 
5 


66  Dimitri  Roudine. 

grow  down  over  my  shoulders.  In  Berlin,  the  students 
dress  like  everybody  else." 

"  Tell  us  something  of  your  student  life,"  said  Alexandra 
Paulovna. 

Roudine  began  his  account.  He  did  not  have  the  gift 
of  narration.  His  descriptions  lacked  color.  He  did  not 
know  how  to  make  his  hearers  laugh.  Soon  he  dropped 
the  account  of  his  adventures  in  foreign  parts  for  general 
reflections  on  the  aim  of  civilization  and  science,  on  uni- 
versities and  university  life  in  general.  He  sketched  a 
large  picture  with  bold,  broad  outlines.  All  listened  to  him 
with  eager  attention.  He  spoke  like  a  master,  with  an 
irresistible  fascination,  not  always  clearly  —  but  this  very 
vagueness  lent  a  charm  to  his  words. 

The  richness  of  his  ideas  prevented  Roudine  from 
expressing  himself  with  exactness  and  accuracy.  One 
image  followed  another ;  comparisons,  now  unusually  bold, 
again  remarkably  apt,  followed  one  another  in  generous 
profusion.  There  was  none  of  the  straining  after  effect 
of  the  professional  talker,  but  genuine  inspiration  ani- 


Dimitri  Roudine.  67 

mated  his  wonderful  flow  of  words.  lie  never  sought  for 
expressions ;  his  words  flowed  readily  and  obediently  to 
his  lips,  and  one  would  have  said  that  every  one  of  them 
came  straight  from  his  heart,  still  glowing  with  the  fire  of 
conviction.  Roudine  possessed  to  the  highest  degree 
what  might  be  called  the  music  of  eloquence.  He  had 
the  art,  by  touching  certain  chords  of  the  heart,  to  make 
them  all  vibrate  together.  It  may  have  been  that  one  or 
another  of  his  hearers  did  not  perfectly  understand  him, 
but  yet  he  felt  his  breast  heaving,  scales  seemed  to  fall 
from  his  eyes,  something  seemed  aglow  before  him  in  the 
distance.  ^ 

Roudine' s  thoughts,  all  turned  towards  the  future,  lent 
his  face  the  fire  of  youth.  Standing  by  the  window,  not 
looking  at  any  one,  he  spoke,  inspired  by  the  beauty  of  the 
night,  the  general  attention  and  sympathy,  as  well  as  by 
the  presence  of  the  young  women.  Carried  on  by  the 
warmth  of  his  own  emotion  he  rose  to  eloquence,  nay,  even 
to  poetry.  The  very  sound  of  his  voice,  sonorous  and  calm, 
doubled  the  charm.  It  seemed  as  if  from  his  mouth  there 


68  Dimitri  .Roudine. 

spoke  something  higher,  something  which  even  he  himself 

(  did  not  understand Roudine  was  speaking  of  what 

lent  an  eternal  meaning  to  the  brief  life  of  man. 

"  I  remember,"  he  said  in  closing,  "  an  old  Scandinavian 
legend.  The  king  and  his  warriors  were  in  a  long,  dark 
hall  around  a  fire.  It  was  night,  and  in  the  winter-time. 
Suddenly  a  little  bird  flew  in  at  one  door  and  out  by  an- 
other. The  king  said,  '  That  bird  is  like  man  on  the  face 
of  the  earth ;  he  flies  hither  out  of  the  darkness,  arid  he 
flies  back  again  into  darkness,  and  he  only  stays  for  a  mo- 
ment in  the  light  and  warmth.'  *  Sire,'  answered  the  oldest 
of  the  warriors, '  the  bird  is  not  lost  in  the  darkness ;  he 
will  find  his  nest  again.'  Without  doubt  our  life  is  brief; 
but  everything  great  is  done  by  men.  The  consciousness 
of  being  the  instrument  of  higher  powers  must  console  for 

the  absence  of  all  other  joys  ;  in  death  itself  man  will  find 

*. 

, — -   his  life,  his  nest."     Roudine  stopped  and  lowered  his  eyes 

with  involuntary  emotion. 

"  Vous  etes  un  poete  !  "  said  Daria  Michaelovna  in  an 
undertone. 


Dimitri  Rondine.  69 

All  agreed  with  her  in  their  hearts,  except  Pigasoff. 
Without  awaiting  the  end  of  Roudine's  long  speech  he  had 
quietly  taken  his  hat  and  gone  away,  whispering,  as  he  left, 
to  Pandalewski,  who  was  standing  by  the  door,  — 

"  The  sane  people  are  too  much  for  me.  I  am  going  to 
visit  the  lunatics." 

But  no  one  thought  of  detaining  him,  nor  was  his  ab- 
sence remarked. 

The  table  was  set  for  supper,  and  half  an  hour  later  the 
company  separated.  Daria  Michaeldvna  had  persuaded 
Roudine  to  stay  there  all  night.  Alexandra  Paulovna 
drove  back  with  her  brother.  On  their  way  home  she  ut- 
tered many  exclamations,  and  expressed  great  surprise  at 
Roudine's  wonderful  intelligence.  Volinzoff  agreed  with 
her,  but  he  said  that  he  did  not  always  express  himself 
clearly  ;  "  that  is  to  say,  not  so  as  to  be  convincing,"  he 
added,  probably  intending  to  explain  his  meaning ;  and  his 
face  darkened  and  his  look  grew  more  melancholy  as  it 
fixed  itself  on  the  opposite  corner  of  the  carriage. 

"  He's  a  clever  fellow,"  said  Pandalewski  aloud,  as  he 


70  Dimitri  Roudine. 

unfastened  his  silk  braces  while  undressing  himself;  then 
with  a  harsh  glance  at  his  servant,  a  little  Cossack,  he  bade 
him  leave  the  room.  Bassistoff  did  not  sleep  all  night ;  he 
did  not  even  take  off  his  clothes  ;  until  daybreak  he  sat 
writing  a  letter  to  one  of  his  friends  in  Moscow. 

Nor  did  Natalie  close  her  eyes  that  night.  Lying  in  her 
bed,  with  her  head  resting  on  her  arm,  she  gazed  into  the 
darkness ;  her  pulse  beat  as  in  a  fever,  and  many  a  deep 
sigh  escaped  from  her  perturbed  breast. 


V. 


ON  the  next  morning  Koudine  had  hardly  finished  dress- 
ing before  a  servant  came  to  his  room  with  an  invita- 
tion from  Daria  Michaelovna  to  come  to  her  boudoir  and 
take  a  cup  of  tea.  Roudine  found  her  alone.  She  wel- 
comed him  very  warmly,  asked  if  he  had  slept  well,  and 
poured  out  his  tea  herself,  put  in  the  sugar,  and  offered  him 
a  cigarette ;  then  she  again  expressed  her  surprise  that  she 
had  never  met  him  before.  Roudine  had  seated  himself  at 
a  little  distance ;  but  Daria  Michaelovna  offered  him  an 
arm-chair  near  her  sofa,  and  turning  towards  him,  began 
to  make  inquiries  about  his  relatives,  his  plans,  and  hig 
projects. 

Daria  spoke  lazily,  and  did  not  listen  very  attentively, 
but  Roudine  saw  that  she  was  trying  to  be  polite  to  him, 


72  Dimitri  Roudine. 

indeed,  that  she  was  even  flattering  him.  It  was  not 
without  purpose  that  she  had  arranged  this  morning  inter- 
view, and  that  she  had  chosen  a  plain  but  becoming  dress, 
a  la  Madame  Recamier.  However,  she  soon  ceased  asking 
him  questions,  and  began  to  talk  about  herself,  her  youth, 
and  the  persons  she  had  known.  Roudine  listened  with 
interest ;  but  —  strange  to  say  —  no  matter  of  whom  Daria 
Michaelovna  spoke,  she  always  introduced  herself  as  the 
main  figure,  so  that  he  soon  learned  what  she  had  said  to 
such  or  such  an  eminent  person,  or  what  influence  she 
had  had  upon  some  eminent  writer.  Judging  from  Daria 
Michaelovna's  conversation,  all  the  distinguished  persons 
of  the  time  had  wished  for  nothing  except  to  make  her 
acquaintance  and  deserve  her  good-will.  She  spoke  of 
them  very  simply,  without  especial  enthusiasm,  as  of  people 
who  belonged  to  her,  calling  some  of  them  very  odd  sticks, 
but  stringing  their  names  together  like  gems  in  a  costly 
coronet  about  the  name  of  Daria  Michaelovna. 

Roudine  listened,  smoking  his  cigarette  in  silence  ;  only 
now  and  then  he  interrupted  with  brief  remarks  the  lady's 


Dimitri  Roitdine.  73 

loquacity.     Although  he  was  naturally  eloquent  and  fond 
of  talking,  he  knew  how  to  listen,  and  those  who  were  not 

frightened  by  his  fluency  soon  expressed  themselves  freely 

' 
in  his  presence,  so  much  kindness  did  he  show  in  listening 

to  what  another  might  say.  He  was  very  good-natured,  as 
those  are  apt  to  be  who  are  accustomed  to  feel  themselves 
superior  to  the  company  they  are  in.  In  a  discussion,  he 
rarely  let  his  opponent  have  the  last  word ;  he  overcame 
him  with  his  eager,  impassionate  language.  Daria  Michael- 
ovna  spoke  Russian,  and  seemed  proud  of  her  familiarity 
with  her  mother-tongue,  although  she  made  use  of  a  great  ' 
many  French  words  and  expressions.  She  tried  to  employ 
simple  and  popular  expressions,  but  not  always  with  perfect 
success.  Roudine  was  not  overmuch  offended  by  the  jar- 
gon which  poured  from  Daria  Michaelovna's  mouth.  At 
last  she  grew  tired ;  she  let  her  head  fall  on  the  sofa  cushion 
and  looked  at  Roudine. 

"  Xow  I  understand,"  he  began  slowly,  "  I  understand 
why  you  pass  every  summer  in  the  country.  You  need 
repose,  calmness ;  after  the  bustling  life  of  the  city  you 

: 


^4  Dimitri  Roudine. 

have  to  rest.     I  am  convinced  that  you  have  a  keen  feeling 
for  the  beauties  of  nature." 

Daria  glanced  at  him  quickly. 

"  Nature  ?  Oh,  yes,  —  yes,  of  course  ;  I  do  indeed  love 
it,  but  you  know,  Dimitri  Nicolaitch,  even  in  the  country  a 
little  society  is  necessary.  Here  I  hardly  see  any  one, 
Pigasoff  is  the  cleverest  man  here." 

"  The  man  who  got  so  angry  yesterday  ?  "  asked  Roudine, 

"  Yes.  In  the  country  he  is  by  no  means  to  be  despised 
—  he's  amusing  at  times." 

"  He  has  some  intelligence,'    answered  Roudine,  "  but 
he's  on  a  wrong  path.     I  don't  know  whether  you  agree 
with  me,  Daria  Michaelovna,  but,  in  my  opinion,  there  is 
nothing  to  be  said  in  defence  of  unlimited,  complete  nega- 
tion.    Deny  everything  and  possibly  you  will  be  considered 
intelligent ;  that  is  a  well-known  device.     Ignorant  people 
will  readily  suppose  that  you  are  better  than  every  thin- 
which  you  deny ;  but  that  is  often  false.     In  the  first  j  lar 
it  is  easy  to  spy  out  faults  in  everything,  and  then,  if  V* 
are  in  the  right,  so  much  tire  worse  for  you.     Your  ir 


Dimitri  Rotidine.  77 

"  She  is  very  attractive,"  remarked  Roudine. 

"  She  is  a  perfect  child,  Diinitri  Nicolaitch,  as  innocent 
as  a  child.  She  has  been  married,  mais  c'est  tout  comme. 
If  I  were  a  man  I  should  fall  in  love  with  just  such 
women." 

"  Really  ?  " 

"  Without  doubt ;  such  women  have  at  least  freshness, 
and  that  can't  be  imitated." 

"  And  can  everything  else  be  imitated  ?  "  asked  Roudine 
with  a  laugh,  which  was  seldom  seen  on  his  face.  When- 
ever he  laughed  his  face  assumed  a  very  strange  expression 
which  gave  him  the  appearance  of  an  old  man  ;  his  eyes 
closed,  his  nose  wrinkled.  "  And  who  is  this  eccentric  of 
whom  you  were  speaking,  and  in  whom  Madame  Lipina  is 
interested  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  certain  Leschnieff  —  Michael  Michaelovitch ;  he  has 
a  place  in  the  neighborhood." 

Roudine  started  and  raised  his  head. 

"  Leschnieff  —  Michael  Michaelovitch  ?  "  he  asked ;  "  is 
he  a  neighbor  of  yours  ?  " 


78  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  Yes.     Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

Roudine  did  not  answer  at  once. 

"  I  used  to  know  him  —  a  long  time  ago.  H(  is  said  to 
be  rich  ?  "  he  continued,  playing  with  the  fr.  nge  of  his 
chair. 

"  He  is  rich,  but  he  dresses  horribly  and  drives  about  in 
a  droschke,  like  an  overseer.  I  have  tried  to  get  him  here. 
He  is  said  to  be  very  clever.  I  am  now  arranging  some 
business  matters  with  him  ....  you  know  I  manage  my 
estate  myself?  " 

Roudine  bowed. 

"Yes,  I  do  it  myself,"  continued  Daria  Michaelovna. 
"  I  don't  try  any  foreign  improvements.  I  follow  the  Rus- 
sian ways ;  and  you  see  everything  goes  on  very  well,"  she 
added,  pointing  to  the  surrounding  objects. 

"  I  have  always  been  convinced  of  the  complete  error  of 
those  who  deny  the  existence  of  practical  sense  in  women." 

Daria  Michaelovna  smiled  pleasantly. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  said,  "  but  what  was  I  going 
to  say  ?  What  were  we  talking  about  ?  Oh,  yes,  abouf 


Dimitri  Rottdine.  79 

Leschnieff.  I  have  to  talk  with  him  about  some  surveying. 
I  have  often  invited  him  to  come  and  see  me,  and  I  expect 
him  to-day  ;  but  he  never  comes  —  he's  so  eccentric." 

The  curtain  which  hung  before  the  door  was  raised  and 
the  steward  entered.  He  was  a  tall,  gray-haired,  some- 
what bald  man,  wearing  a  black  dress-coat,  a  white  neck- 
tie, and  a  white  waistcoat. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  asked  Daria  Michaelovna,  and 
turning  a  little  towards  Roudine,  she  asked  him  in  French, 
"  Does  he  not  look  like  Canning  ?  " 

"Michael  Michaelovitch  Leschnieff  has  arrived,'*  said 
the  steward ;  "  shall  I  bring  him  here  ?  " 

"  Ah,  heavens  !  "  cried  Daria  Michaelovna,  "  just  as  we 
were  speaking  of  him.  Invite  him  to  this  room." 

The  man  left  the  boudoir. 

"  This  singular  man  is  come  at  last,  and  at  an  unfor- 
tunate time.  He  interrupts  our  conversation." 

Roudine  was  about  to  leave,  but  Daria  Michaelovna 
made  him  stay. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  We  can  talk  about  this  matter 


8o  Dimitri  Roudine. 

in  your  presence,  and  besides  I  want  to  have  you  describe 
him  to  me  as  you  have  Pigasoff.  When  you  speak,  vous 
gravez  comme  avec  un  burin.  Stay." 

Roudine  was  apparently  about  to  answer,  but  he  thought 
a  moment  and  said  nothing. 

Michael  Michaelovitch,  whom  the  reader  already  knows, 
entered  the  room.  He  wore  the  same  old  coat,  and  held  in 
his  sun-burned  hands  the  same  old  cap.  He  saluted  Daria 
Michaelovna  quietly,  and  walked  up  to  the  table. 

"  You  have  at  last  been  good  enough  to  call,  Mr.  Lesch- 
nieff,"  said  Daria  Michaelovna.  "  Pray  be  seated.  I 
believe  you  know  this  gentleman,"  she  added,  pointing 
towards  Roudine. 

Leschnieff  looked  at  Roudine,  and  smiled  rather  oddly. 

"  I  know  Mr.  Roudine,"  he  said  with  a  slight  bow. 

"  We  were  at  the  university  together,"  remarked  Rou- 
dine in  a  low  voice,  and  casting  down  his  eyes. 

"  And  have  met  since,"  said  Leschnieff,  coldly. 

Daria  Michaelovna  looked  at  both  with  some  surprise 
and  offered  Leschnieff -a  seat,  which  he  took. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  81 

"  You  wanted  to  see  me,"  he  began,  "  about  the  sur- 
veys ?  " 

"  Yes,  about  the  surveys,  and  also  for  the  pleasure  of 
making  your  acquaintance.  We  are  neighbors  and  almost 
relatives." 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  answered  Leschnieff. 
"As  to  the  surveys,  I  have  come  to  an  agreement 
about  them  with  your  overseer;  I  consent  to  everything 
he  proposes." 

"  I  knew  you  would." 

11  But  he  told  me  we  could  not  sign  the  papers  until  I 
had  had  an  interview  with  you." 

"  Yes,  that  is  my  habit.  May  I  ask  you  if  it  is  true  that 
all  your  serfs  pay  you  rent  V  " 

"  It  is  true." 

"  And  yet  you  interest  yourself  in  the  surveying  ?  That 
is  very  commendable  of  you." 

Leschnieff  did  not  answer  for  a  moment. 

"  You  see  I  came  for  this  interview." 

Daria  Michaelovna  smiled.    "  I  see  that  you  came.    You 


82  Dimitri  Rotidine. 

say  that  in  such  a  strange  way,  I  am  sure  that  you  did  not 
want  to  come." 

"  I  never  go  anywhere,"  answered  Leschnieff,  phleg- 
matically. 

"  Not  anywhere  ?  But  you  call  on  Alexandra  Paulovna  ?  " 

"  I  am  an  old  friend  of  her  brother." 

"  Her  brother !  Still,  I  don't  compel  any  one.  But  you 
will  excuse  me,  Michael  Michaelovitch,  I  am  older  than 
you  and  may  be  permitted  to  find  fault  with  you ;  how  can 
you  take  any  pleasure  in  leading  so  retired  a  life  ?  Is  it 
my  house  perhaps  that  you  don't  like  ?  or  perhaps  you 
don't  like  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  you,  Daria  Michaelovna,  and  so  how  can 
I  dislike  you  ?  Your  house  is  very  handsome  ;  but  I  con- 
fess frankly  I  don't  like  to  take  the  trouble.  I  have  no 
suitable  coat,  no  gloves  ;  I  don't  belong  to  your  set." 

"By  birth  and  education  you  do,  Michael  Michaelo- 
vitch. Vous  etes  des  notres" 

"  Let  us  leave  birth  and  education  out  of  the  discussion, 
Daria  Michaelovna.  That  is  not  the  point." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  83 

"  Man  ought  to  live  with  his  kind,  Michael  Michaelovitch. 
What  pleasure  have  you  in  living  like  Diogenes  in  his 
tub  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  he  was  very  comfortable  there  ;  and 
in  the  second,  how  do  you  know  that  I  do  not  live  among 
people?" 

Daria  Michaelovna  bit  her  lips. 

"  That  is  another  matter.  I  have  only  to  regret  that 
I  am  not  one  of  those  whom  you  deem  worthy  of  your 
acquaintance." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  broke  in  Roudine,  "  that  Mr.  Lesch- 
nieff  carries  to  excess  what  in  itself  is  a  very  praiseworthy 
feeling  —  the  love  of  liberty." 

Leschnieff  made  no  answer ;  he  simply  looked  at  Rou- 
dine. There  was  a  moment  of  silence. 

"  So,"  said  Leschnieff,  rising,  "  I  may  consider  our  busi- 
ness as  settled,  and  may  tell  your  overseer  to  bring  over 
the  papers  for  me  to  sign." 

"  You  may  ....  although  you  are  not  at  all  amiable 

...  I  ought  to  refuse." 


84  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  But  this  survey  will  bring  you  more  profit  than  it  doe§ 
me." 

Daria  Michaelovna  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  And  you 
won't  stay  and  breakfast  with  us  ?  " 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  I  never  eat  any  breakfast,  and 
besides,  I  must  go  home." 

Daria  Michaelovna  arose.  "I  won't  detain  you  any 
longer,"  she  said,  going  towards  the  window ;  "  I  don't  dare 
detain  you." 

Leschnieff  bade  them  good  morning. 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  Leschnieff.  Excuse  me  for  boring 
you." 

"  You  have  not  bored  me,"  he  said,  going  out. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  "  asked  Daria  of  Roudine. 
"  I  had  heard  that  he  was  eccentric,  but  this  exceeds  every- 
thing." 

"  He  suffers  in  the  same  way  as  Pigasoff,"  answered 
Roudine,  "  from  a  desire  to  appear  original.  One  pretends 
to  be  a  Mephistopheles,  the  other  a  cynic.  In  it  all  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  egoism,  a  great  deal  of  selfishness,  little 


Dimitri  Roudine.  85 

truth,  little  love. "  In  another  way,  it  is  a  sort  of  calcula- 
tion ;  one  puts  on  a  mask  of  indifference  and  idleness,  to 
make  others  say,  '  That  man  hides  a  great  deal  of  light 
beneath  a  bushel ! '  But  if  you  examine  closely,  there  is 
no  light  there." 

"  Et  de  deux  !  "  said  Daria  Michaelovna.  "  You  are  a 
terrible  man  at  defining  character.  No  one  escapes  you." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  said  Roudine.  "  Still,  to  be  just," 
he  continued,  "  I  ought  not  to  say  anything  about  Lesch- 
nieff.  I  loved  him  once,  loved  him  as  a  friend.  After- 
wards, in  consequence  of  some  misunderstanding  "  — 

"  You  quarrelled  ?  " 

"  No,  we  had  no  quarrel ;  we  separated,  and,  I  think, 
separated  forever." 

"  That's  the  reason,  I  noticed  that  you  were  ill  at  ease 

during  his  visit I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  a 

pleasant  morning.  I  have  enjoyed  it  very  much.  But 
—  everything  in  moderation  !  I  give  you  leave  of  absence 
until  breakfast-time ;  now  I  must  attend  to  business.  My 
secretary,  you  have  seen  him  —  Constantine  is  my  secre- 


86  Dimitri  Roudine. 

tary  —  is  probably  waiting  for  me  now.  I  commend  him 
to  you.  He  is  a  most  worthy  young  man,  very  obliging, 
and  enthusiastic  about  you.  Good-by,  then,  dear  Dimitri 
Nicola'itch.  How  indebted  I  am  to  the  baron  for  giving 
me  the  opportunity  of  making  your  acquaintance." 

Daria  Michaelovna  held  out  her  hand  to  Koudine.  He 
first  shook  it,  then  raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  went  out  intc 
the  hall,  and  thence  upon  the  terrace,  where  he  met 
Natalie. 


VI. 


IT  was  by  no  means  unlikely  that  one  would  not  at  first  ' 
lie  attracted  by  Daria's  daughter,  Natalie  Alexievna.  Thia 
and  dark,  she  had  not  yet  ^reached  her  full  growth,  and 
she  did  not  hold  herself  perfectly  straight.  Her  features, 
although  rather  marked  for  a  girl  of  seventeen,  were  noble 
and  regular.  Especially  beautiful  was  the  clear,  smooth 
forehead,  which  rose  above  her  gently  arching  eyebrows. 
She  spoke  very  little,  but  when  any  one  was  talking  she 
listened  and  looked  attentively,  almost  fixedly,  at  him,  as 
if  she  was  unwilling  to  let  anything  escape  her.  She 
would  often  sit  motionless,  sunk  in  thought,  her  arms  hang- 
ing by  her  side  ;  at  such  times  her  face  expressed  the  pro- 
foundness of  her  abstraction A  hardly  perceptible 

smile  played  about  her  lips  and  disappeared  again;  her 


88  Dimitri  Roudine. 

large  dark  eyes  lifted  themselves  up  slowly.  "  Qu'avez- 
vous?"  Mademoiselle  Boncourt  used  to  ask,  and  then 
would  begin  to  scold  her,  telling  her  it  was  not  proper  for 
^a  young  lady  to  drop  her  head  and  be  so  absent-minded. 
>/"  But  Natalie  was  not  absent-minded  ;  on  the  contrary, 
she  studied  earnestly,  and  was  fond  of  reading  and  work- 
ing. Her  feelings  were  keen  and  deep,  although  she  was 
reserved ;  in  her  childhood  she  had  hardly  ever  cried ; 
now  she  seldom  even  sighed,  and  only  grew  pale  when 
anything  troubled  her.  Her  mother  considered  her  a  well- 
behaved,  reasonable  child,  and  used  to  call  her  in  jest, 
mon  konnete  homme  dejille,  but  she  had  no  very  high  opinion 
of  her  intellectual  powers. 

"  Fortunately,  my  Natalie  is  cold,"  she  used  to  say. 
"  She's  not  like  me  —  so  much  the  better  !  She  will  be 
nappy."  Daria  Michaelovna  was  mistaken.  Besides,  it 
is  seldom  that  a  mother  fully  understands  her  daughter. 

Natalie  loved  Daria  Michaelovna,  but  she  did  not  have 
perfect  confidence  in  her. 

"You  have  nothing  to    conceal  from   me,"   said   her 


Dimitri  Rondine.  89 

mother  to  her  one  day,  "but  if  you  had,  you  would 
make  a  great  mystery  of  it.  You  have  your  own  little 
head." 

Natalie  looked  at  her  mother  and  thought,  "  And  why 
shouldn't  I  have  my  own  head  ?  " 

When  Roudine  met  her  on  the  terrace,  she  was  going 
into  her  room  with  Miss  Boncourt  to  get  her  hat  and  walk 
in  the  garden.  Her  morning  occupations  were  finished. 
She  was  no  longer  treated  as  a  child  ;  Miss  Boncourt  had 
long  since  ceased  instructing  her  in  mythology  and  geog- 
raphy, but  she  made  her  read  every  morning  a  chapter  of 
history  or  of  a  book  of  travels,  or  some  other  instruc- 
tive work.  Daria  Michaelovna  made  the  choice  as  if  she 
were  following  some  system  ;  but  in  fact  she  gave  Natalie 
everything  which  her  French  bookseller  in  St.  Petersburg 
sent  her,  except  naturally  the  novels  of  Alexandre  Dumas, 
Fils  &  Co. ;  these  she  kept  for  herself.  When  Natalie  was 
reading  history  Miss  Boncourt  scowled  with  great  severity 
behind  her  glasses;  the  old  French  lady  considered  all 
history  to  be  full  of  things  which  were  only  harmful  tc 


90  Dimitri  Roudine. 

know,  although  her  knowledge  included  only  Cambyses  in 
ancient  times,  and  Louis  XIV.  and  Napoleon,  whom  she 
hated,  in  modern  history.  But  Natalie  used  to  read  books 
J  of  which  Miss  Boncourt  had  never  heard ;  she  knew  Pouch- 
kine  by  heart. 

Natalie  blushed  slightly  as  she  met  Roudine. 

"  Are  you  going  to  walk  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes ;  we  are  going  into  the  garden." 

"  Will  you  let  me  go  with  you  ?  " 

Natalie  looked  at  Miss  Boncourt,  who  answered,  "  Cer- 
tainly, sir ;  we  should  be  glad  to  have  you." 

Roudine  took  his  hat  and  followed  them. 

At  first  Natalie  was  a  little  embarrassed  at  walking  by 
Roudine's  side,  but  she  soon  recovered  herself.  He  began 
to  question  her  about  her  occupations  and  the  pleasure  she 
had  in  the  country.  She  answered  a  little  timidly,  but 
without  that  uneasy  self-consciousness  which  is  sometimes 
mistaken  for  modesty. 

"Do  you  never  get  tired  of  the  country?"  asked  Re  UP 
dine,  glancing  at  her  from  the  corner  of  his  eye. 


'•'„ 

Dimitri  Roudine.  ^  J*/ 

•//- 
"  How  can  one  be  tired  of  the  ooun^  \    I  amicb^ighted 

to  be  here.    I  am  very  happy  here.'*  ****/* ? 

'     J  /*  f 

"You  are  happy  1  That's  a  great  word.  <But  it'$' nat- 
ural enough ;  you  are  young." 

Roudine  pronounced  this  word  in  a  strange  way,  as  if 
both  envy  and  pity  moved  him. 

"  Yes,  youth  1 "  he  added.  "  The  great  aim  of  science 
is  to  give  us  by  means  of  work  what  youth  gives  us  gra- 
tuitously." 

Natalie  looked  at  Roudine  attentively ;  she  had  not  un- 
derstood him. 

"  I  have  been  talking  most  of  the  morning  with  your 
mother,"  he  continued,  "  an  extraordinary  woman.  I  can 
understand  why  all  our  poets  so  valued  her  friendship. 
Do  you  too  like  poetry  ?  "  he  added,  after  a  moment  of 
silence. 

"  He's  examining  me,"  thought  Natalie,  and  she  an- 
swered, "  Yes,  I  like  it  very  much." 

"  Poetry  is  the  language  of  the  gods.     I  too  am  fond  of        / 
poetry.     But  not  in  verses  alone  do  we  find  poetry ;  it  is 


92  Dimitn  Roudine. 

everywhere ;  it  is  all  around  us.  Look  at  the  trees,  the 
sky ;  from  all  sides  stream  forth  life  and  beauty ;  where 
there  is  life  and  beauty,  there  is  poetry.  Let  us  sit  down 
on  this  bench,"  he  continued.  "  So ;  I  don't  know  why, 
but  it  seems  to  me  that  when  we  are  better  acquainted  we 
shall  be  "  —  and  he  looked  with  a  smile  into  her  eyes  — 
«  very  good  friends.  What  do  you  think  about  it  ?  " 

"  He  treats  me  like  a  child,"  thought  Natalie  again,  and, 
uncertain  what  she  ought  to  say,  she  asked  him  how  long 
he  intended  to  stay  in  the  country. 

"  All  summer,  the  autumn,  and  perhaps  through  the  win- 
ter. You  know  I  am  not  rich ;  besides,  I'm  beginning  to 
get  tired  of  the  perpetual  change  of  place.  It  is  time  for 
me  to  give  myself  a  little  rest." 

Natalie  looked  at  him  with  surprise. 

«  Do  you  really  find  that  it  is  time  for  you  to  rest  ?  "  she 
asked  timidly. 

Roudine  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  I  meant  to  say,"  she  answered  with  some  embarrass- 


Dimitri  Roudine.  93 

mcnt,  "  that  others  may  seek  rest,  but  that  you  .  .  .  you 
ought  to  work  and  try  to  make  yourself  useful.  Who  will 
do  it,  if  you  do  not  ?  " 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  flattering  opinion," 
interrupted  Roudine;  "be  useful  —  that  is  easily  said," 
and  he  rubbed  his  hand  over  his  face.  "  Useful !  "  he  re- 
peated. "  If  I  could  only  know  how  I  could  be  of  use  — 
if  I  only  had  confidence  in  my  own  powers,  where  could  I 
find  sincere  and  sympathetic  souls  ?  " 

Roudine  let  his  hand  fall  with  so  despondent  an  air 
and  dropped  his  head  so  sadly  that  Natalie  could  not 
help  asking  if  he  were  indeed  the  man  who  on  the. 
evening  before  had  spoken  with  such  enthusiasm  and 
confidence. 

"  But  no,"  he  added,  shaking  his  lion-like  mane,  "  that  is 
nonsense,  and  you  are  right.  I  thank  you,  Natalie  Alex- 
ievna,  I  thank  you  heartily."  Natalie  did  not  know  why 
he  thanked  her.  "  A  word  from  you  has  reminded  me  of 

my  dutj-,  has  shown  me  the  way Yes,  I  must  work. 

If  I  have  talents  I  must  not  bury  them.     I  ought  not  to 


94  Dimitri  Roudine. 

waste  my  powers  in  empty,  useless  babble,  in  vain 
words."  .... 

And  his  words  flowed  as  from  a  spring.  He  spoke  ad- 
mirably, enthusiastically,  against  cowardice  and  idleness, 
about  the  necessity  of  working.  He  reproached  himself, 
proved  to  himself  that  to  discuss  in  advance  what  one  was 
going  to  do  was  as  unwise  as  to  prick  with  a  pin  fruit  that 
was  on  the  point  of  ripening ;  it  was  a  mere  waste  of  force 
in  both  cases.  He  declared  that  a  noble  thought  never 
failed  to 'awaken  sympathy,  that  those  alone  were  misunder- 
stood who  did  not  themselves  know  what  they  wanted,  or 
who  deserved  their  fate.  He  spoke  for  a  long  time,  and  con- 
cluded with  thanking  Natalie  again,  and,  pressing  her  hand 
suddenly,  he  added,  "  You  are  a  charming,  noble  being  !  " 

This  liberty  astounded  Miss  Boncourt.  In  spite  of  the 
forty  years  she  had  spent  in  Russia,  she  understood  Rus- 
sian with  great  difficulty,  and  admired  only  the  fluent  ease 
of  Roudine's  remarks.  In  her  eyes  he  was  only  a  sort  of 
virtuoso  or  artist,  and  such  people  could  not  be  held  to  too 
strict  a  regard  of  conventionalities. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  95 

She  rose,  arranged  her  skirts,  and  told  Natalie  it  was 
time  to  go  back,  especially  because  Mr.  Volinzoff  was 
going  to  breakfast  with  them. 

"  There  he  is  now,"  she  added,  glancing  at  one  of  the 
paths  which  led  towards  the  house. 

And  in  fact,  Volinzoff  w,as  coming  towards  them.  He 
approached  irresolutely,  greeted  all  from  a  distance,  and 
turning  towards  Natalie  with  suffering  marked  upon 
his  face,  he  said  to  her,  "  Ah !  you  were  taking  your 
walk?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Natalie.  "  We  were  just  going  back 
to  the  house." 

"  Indeed ;  let  us  go." 

And  they  all  started  towards  the  house. 

"  How  is  your  sister  ?  "  asked  Roudine  with  an  espe- 
cially courteous  voice.  On  the  evening  before,  too,  he  had 
treated  him  with  great  kindness. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  she  is  very  well.  Perhaps  she 
will  come  to-day.  I  think  you  were  talking  when  I  came 
np!" 


96  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"Yes,  we  were  talking.  Natalie  Alexievna  had  said 
»omething  which  made  a  great  impression  upon  me.'" 

Volinzoff  did  not  ask  what  she  had  said,  and  in  un- 
btoken  silence  they  all  reached  the  house. 

.They  met  again  in  the  parlor  before  dinner,  but  Piga- 
soft  did  not  appear.  Roudine  seemed  rather  out  of  spirits, 
and  he  kept  asking  Pandalewski  to  play  something  of 
Beethoven.  Volinzoff  said  nothing,  and  kept  his  eyes 
fastened  on  the  ground.  Natalie  did  not  stir  from  her 
mother's  side ;  at  one  moment  she  was  lost  in  thought,  and 
the  next  she  was  busy  with  her  work.  Bassistoff  simply 
stared  at  Roudine,  waiting  for  him  to  utter  one  of  his  intel- 
ligent remarks.  Three  hours  passed  thus  uneventfully. 
Alexandra  Paulovna  did  not  come  to  dinner,  and  as  soon 
as  the  meal  was  finished,  Volinzoff  had  his  carriage 
brought  to  the  door,  and  he  drove  away  without  taking 
leave  of  any  one. 

He  felt  very  ill  at  ease.  For  a  long  time  he  had  been 
in  love  with  Natalie,  but  he  had  never  ventured  to  confess 
his  passion,  and  this  state  of  uncertainty  was  the  cause  of 


Dimitri  Roudine.  97 

great  suffering  to  him.  She  was  always  glad  to  see  him, 
but  her  heart  was  calm ;  he  never  deceived  himself  with 
respect  to  the  emotion  he  excited.  He  had  never  hoped 
to  arouse  a  tenderer  feeling,  and  only  waited  for  the  time 
to  come  when  she  would  be  thoroughly  accustomed  to  him 
and  would  consent  to  accept  him.  But  what  could  have 
so  disturbed  Volinzoff'  to-day  ?  What  change  had  he 
noticed  in  this  short  time  ?  Natalie  had  treated  him  as 
she  always  did. 

Was  it  the  sudden  thought  that  perhaps  he  did  not  un- 
derstand Natalie's  character,  and  that  she  was  not  so  near 

him  as  he  had  imagined  ?     Was  he  jealous  ?     Had  he  a 

'^ji 
presentiment  of  some  misfortune  ?  ....  At  any  rate  he 

suffered,  in  spite  of  all  his  attempts  to  control  himself. 

On  reaching  his  sister's  house  he  found  Leschnieff 
there. 

"  What  made  you  come  back  so  early?"  asked  Alex- 
andra Paulo  vn  a. 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  was  bored." 

"  Was  Roudine  there  ?  " 

7 


98  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  He  was." 

Volinzoff  threw  his  cap  to  one  side,  and  sat  down. 

Alexandra  Paulovna  turned  towards  him  qu  ckly. 

"  Please,  Sergius,  help  me  to  convince  this  obstinate 
man,"  pointing  to  Leschnieft',  "that  Roudine  is  uncom- 
monly intelligent  and  really  eloquent." 

Volinzoff  muttered  a  few  unintelligible  words. 

"  I  don't  contradict  you  in  the  least,"  began  Leschnieff. 
"  I  don't  deny  his  intelligence  and  eloquence,  I  only  say  I 
don't  like  him." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  him  ?  "  asked  Volinzoff. 

"I  saw  him  this  morning  at  Daria  Michaelovna's," 
answered  Leschnieff.  "  He  is  now  the  Great  Mogul  there. 
The  time  will  come  when  they  will  quarrel.  Pandalewski 
is  the  only  person  whom  she  will  never  abandon ;  but  now 
Roudine  has  it  all  his  own  way.  Yes,  indeed,  I  saw  him. 
He  was  sitting  there,  and  she  showed  me  to  him  as  if  she 
was  saying,  '  There,  my  friend,  see  what  queer  fellows  we 
have  about  here  1 '  I'm  not  a  piece  of  fancy  stock,  to  \>Q 
trotted  out  before  visitors  ;  so,  I  left  at  once." 


Dimitri  Roiidine.  99 

"  And  what  had  you  gone  for  ?  " 

"  About  some  surveying ;  but  that  was  a  mere  pretence, 
she  only  wanted  to  see  me.  A  fine  lady  ....  we  know 
all  about  that." 

"  Roudine's  superiority  is  what  offends  you,"  said  Alex- 
andra Paulovna  warmly  ;  "  that  is  what  you  can't  forgive. 
But  I  am  sure  that  his  heart  is  as  good  as  his  head.  Only 
look  at  his  eyes  when  he  "  — 

"  Speaks  of  lofty  virtue,"  said  Leschnieff,  quoting  a  line 
of  Griboiedoff. 

"  You  will  make  me  angry,  and  then  I  shall  cry.  I  am 
really  sorry  I  stayed  here  with  you  and  did  not  go  to 
Daria's.  You  don't  deserve  such  kindness.  Now  don't 
tease  me  any  more,"  she  added  plaintively.  "  Tell  me 
something  about  his  youth." 

"  Of  Roudine's  youth  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  why  not  ?  You  told  me,  you  remember,  that  you 
had  known  him  for  a  long  time,  and  very  well." 

Leschnieff  arose  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
room. 


loo  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  Yes,"  he  began,  "  I  know  him  well.  You  want  me  to 
tell  you  about  his  early  life  ?  Very  well.  He  was  born 

in  T .  His  father  was  a  poor  man  who  had  an  estate 

there.  He  died  young  and  left  this  only  child  to  his  moth- 
er's care.  She  was  an  excellent  woman  and  devoted  to 
her  son.  She  half  starved  herself  that  he  might  not  lack 
money.  He  was  educated  at  Moscow.  At  first  it  was 
one  of  his  uncles  who  paid  his  expenses  ;  afterwards,  when 
Roudine  had  grown  up  and  put  on  all  his  fine  feathers,  — 
excuse  me,  I  won't  do  so  any  more,  —  it  was  a  rich  prince 
whose  acquaintance  he  had  made.  Then  he  went  to  the 
university.  It  was  there  I  knew  him,  and  very  intimately, 
too.  Of  our  life  then  I  will  tell  you  at  some  other  time. 
It  is  of  no  importance  now.  Then  he  travelled." 

Leschnieff  kept  walking  up  and  down  the  room  ;  Alex- 
andra following  him  with  her  eyes. 

"  Once  gone,"  he  continued,  "  Roudine  seldom  wrote  to 
his  mother.  He  only  went  to  see  her  once,  and  then  for 
but  two  days.  It  was  among  strangers  that  the  poor 
woman  died,  but  to  the  last  she  kept  her  eyes  fastened  on 


Dimitri  Roudine.  loi 

his  portrait.  When  I  lived  in  T I  used  to  go  to  see 

her.  She  was  a  kind  old  lady,  and  very  hospitable ;  she 
never  failed  to  give  me  preserved  cherries. ,  She  was  en- 
tirely devoted  to  her  son.  The  gentlemen  of  the  Petcho- 
rine  *  school  will  tell  you  that  we  are  always  inclined  to 
love  most  those  who  are  least  capable,  of  feeliug  any  love 
for  others  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  -that  &11  'mothers- love,  their 
children,  especially  when  they  are  away  from  them.  Some 
time  afterwards  I  met  Roudine  again,  abroad.  He  was 
living  with  one  of  our  Russian  ladies  who  had  interested 
herself  in  him ;  she  was  a  sort  of  blue-stocking,  neither 
younger  nor  handsomer  than  blue-stockings  should  be. 
He  wandered  about  for  some  time  with  her,  and  finally  left 
her  —  no,  excuse  me,  she  grew  tired  of  him.  Then  I  lost 
all  trace  of  him.  That  is  all." 

Leschnieff  stopped,  passed  his  hand  over  his  face,  and 
sat  down  in  an  arm-chair  as  if  he  were  fatigued. 

"  But  do  you  know,  Michael  Michaelovitch,"  said  Alex- 
andra Paulovna,  "that  you  are  very  bad?  T  am  really 

i  The  name  >f  the  hero  of  a  noTel  of  Lennontoff.  —  TR. 


IO2  Dimitri  Roudine. 

beginning  to  think  that  you  are  no  better  thai  Pigasoff 
I  am  convinced  that  all  you  say  is  true,  that  you  have  not 
added  anything,  and  yet  in  what  an  unfavorable  light  you 
have  put  everything !  His  poor  old  mother,  her  devotion 
to  him,  her  lonely  death,  that  lady  ....  what  is  the  need 
»>f  ail  that?  "Don't  y'ou°know  that  one  might  paint  the  lives 
of  Vjrfeh  tbe*  'be^t  o^m'en  injsuch  colors — and  that,  too,  you 
will  observe,  without  adding  anything  —  that  every  one 
will  be  frightened  ?  It  is  a  sort  of  backbiting.'* 

Leschnieff  arose  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
room  again. 

"  I  certainly  did  not  intend  to  deceive  you,"  he  said 
finally.  "I  am  no  backbiter.  To  be  sure,"  he  added, 
after  a  brief  pause,  "  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  truth  in 
what  you  say.  I  have  not  treated  Roudine  too  severely ; 
but  —  who  knows  ?  —  he  may  have  changed  since  then  ; 
perhaps  I  have  not  been  fair  towards  him." 

"  Then  promise  me  to  renew  your  acquaintance  with 
him,  to  study  him  thoroughly,  and  then  to  give  me.  you! 
final  judgment  of  him." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  103 

"  Very  well,  if  you  wish  it But  why  are  you  so 

silent,  Sergius  Paulovitch  ?  " 

Volinzoff  started,  and  raised  his  head  as  if,  he  had  been 
suddenly  awakened  from  sleep. 

"  What  can  I  say  ?  I  don't  know  him.  Besides,  I  don't 
feel  very  well  to-day." 

"  You  do  look  a  little  pale,"  said  Alexandra  Paulovna. 

"  I  have  a  headache,"  said  Volinzoff,  as  he  left  the  room. 

Alexandra  Paulovna  and  Leschnieff  gazed  after  him, 
and  their  eyes  met  without  their  saying  a  word.  What 
was  going  on  in  Volinzoff's  heart  was  a  secret  to  neither 
of  them. 


vn. 


MORE  than  two  months  had  passed,  during  which  time 
Roudine  had  hardly  been  out  of  Dana's  house.  She  could 
not  be  without  him.  It  had  become  a  fixed  habit  with 
her  to  talk  to  V«m  and  listen  to  his  conversation.  Once 
he  wanted  to  go  away  on  the  pretext  that  he  had  spent 
all  his  money,  but  she  gave  him  five  hundred  rubles,  which 
did  not  prevent  him  from  borrowing  one  hundred  from 
Volinzoff.  Pigasoff  visited  Daria  Michaelovna  much  less 
often  than  before.  Roudine's  presence  made  the  house 
distasteful  to  him,  and  he  was  not  the  only  one  who  had 
this  feeling. 

"  I  don't  like  that  conceited  fellow,"  he  used  to  say  ; 
"  he's  as  affected  in  his  way  of  speaking  as  the  hero  of  a 
Russian  n^vel.  He  begins  with  an  'I,'  and  turn  he  stops 


Dimitri  Roudine.  105 

to  admire  it  *  I,  well,  I ! '  and  he's  so  long-winded.  If 
any  one  sneezes,  he  begins  to  explain  why  he  sneezed 
instead  of  coughing.  If  he  praises  any  one,,  it's  as  if  he 
were  raising  him  in  the  social  scale.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  he  begins  to  decry  himself,  he  drags  himself  in  the 
mire,  so  that  you  would  think  he'd  never  dare  show  his 
face  again.  Not  at  all ;  it  only  puts  him  in  better  spirits, 
as  if  he'd  taken  a  glass  of  absinthe." 

As  for  Pandalewski,  he  was  rather  afraid  of  Roudine, 
and  treated  him  with  great  obsequiousness.  Volinzoff 
found  himself  in  a  singular  relation  to  the  new-comer. 
Roudine  used  to  call  him  a  knight,  and  was  unceasing  in 
his  praise,  whether  in  his  presence  or  not ;  but  his  warm- 
est compliments  only  filled  Volinzoff  with  impatience  and 
vexation.  "  He  is  making  fun  of  me,"  he  used  to  say  to 
himself,  with  a  sudden  feeling  of  hatred.  In  spite  of  all 
his  efforts  to  control  himself,  Volinzoff  was  jealous  of 
him.  And  Roudine,  although  he  was  so  loud  in  his 
praises,  and  called  him  a  knight  while  he  borrowed  money 
from  him,  was  hardly  more  drawn  towards  him.  It  would 


io6  Dimitri  Roudine. 

not  have  been  an  easy  matter  to  define  the  feelings  of 
these  two  men  when  they  shook  hands  warmly  with  one 
another  and  their  eyes  met. 

Bassistoff  continued  to  worship  Roudine,  and  to  listen 
greedily  to  every  one  of  his  words.  But  Roudine  paid 
him  very  little  attention.  Once  he  spent  the  whole  morn- 
ing with  him,  talking  on  the  most  serious  subjects,  and 
aroused  in  him  the  warmest  enthusiasm ;  after  that  he  gave 
him  no  more  consideration. 

It  was  merely  idle  words,  when  he  expressed  his  longing 
for  young  and  ardent  souls.  Leschnieff  had  begun  to  visit 
Daria  Miehaelovna,  but  Roudine  never  entered  into  dis- 
cussion with  him,  and  seemed  to  avoid  him.  Leschnieff, 
too,  on  his  side,  treated  him  with  coolness,  and  never 
expressed  any  final  judgment  about  him,  much  to  the 
annoyance  of  Alexandra  Paulovna.  She  bowed  down 
before  Roudine,  but  she  had  confidence  in  Leschnieff. 
All  in  Daria  Michaelovna's  house  humored  Roudine's 
whims,  and  obeyed  his  slightest  wishes.  He  settled  what 
was  to  be  done  every  day.  There  could  be  no  picnic 


Dimitri  Roudine.  107 

without  his  approbation.  All  these  sudden,  improvised 
excursions  were  very  little  to  his  taste,  and  he  took  part  in 
them  with  very  much  the  same  air  of  indifference  and 
willingness  to  be  pleased,  that  one  shows  who  joins  in  the 
sports  of  children.  To  compensate  for  that,  he  took  an 
interest  in  everything,  discussed  with  Daria  the  manage- 
ment of  the  estate,  the  education  of  the  young,  and  all 
sorts  of  business  matters.  He  listened  to  all  her  plans 
without  any  contempt  for  the  details,  and  proposed 
changes  and  improvements. 

Daria  was  always  charmed  with  what  he  said,  but  it 
never  had  any  practical  result.  In  all  matters  connected 
with  the  house  she  used  to  follow  the  advice  of  her  over- 
seer, a  short,  one-eyed  old  man,  who  was  as  crafty  as  he 
was  soft-mannered.  "  What  is  old  is  fat ;  what  is  new  is 
thin,"  he  used  to  say,  smiling  wisely  and  winking. 

After  Daria,  there  was  no  one  with  whom  Roudine  used 
to  talk  so  often  nor  so  long  as  with  Natalie.  He  lent  her 
books  without  any  one  knowing  of  it,  confided  to  her  his 
plans,  and  read  her  the  first  pages  of  future  articles  and 


io8  Dimitri  Roudine. 

books.  Very  often  she  did  not  fully  understand  them,  but 
Roudine  did  not  seem  to  trouble  himself  much  about  that, 
as  long  as  he  had  some  one  to  listen  to  him.  His  intimacy 
with  Natalie  was  not  perfectly  agreeable  to  Daria,  but  she 
said  to  herself,  "  Let  them  chat  together  here  in  the 
country  ;  he's  fond  of  her  as  of  any  little  girl.  There's  no 
harm  in  it ;  and  he  will  teach  her  a  great  deal.  But  at  St. 
Petersburg  I  will  arrange  everything  on  a  different  footing." 
Daria  was  mistaken.  Roudine  did  not  talk  to  Natalie 
as  one  generally  talks  to  a  little  girl.  She  too  listened 
keenly  to  everything  he  said,  tried  to  catch  his  meaning, 
submitted  to  his  judgment  all  her  thoughts  and  doubts ; 
\J  he  was  her  instructor,  her  guide.  At  first  it  was  only  her 
head  that  was  in  a  turmoil,  but  a  young  head  is  never  long 
in  a  turmoil  before  the  heart  too  is  affected.  How  deli- 
cious to  Natalie  were  those  moments,  when,  as  often 
happened,  they  were  sitting  on  the  garden-bench,  in  the 
light,  transparent  shadow  of  an  ash-tree,  and  Roudine 
would  read  aloud  Goethe's  "Faust,"  Hoffman,  Bettina's 
Letters,  or  Novalis,  continually  stopping  to  explain  to  her 


Dimitri  Roudine.  109 

•whatever  she  found  obscure  !  Like  most  Russian  girls  she 
did  not  speak  German  well,  but  she  understood  it  without 
difficulty.  As  for  Roudine,  he  was  familiar  with  the  whole 
romantic  and  philosophical  world  of  Germany,  and  he 
carried  Natalie  with  him  into  this  ideal  world.  It  was  an  / 
unknown  and  marvellous  world  that  was  unfolded  before  ; 
the  eager  gaze  of  the  young  girl.  From  the  pages  of 
the  book  in  Roudine's  hand  there  streamed  wonderful  im- 
ages, grand  and  touching,  thoughts  new  and  lofty,  which 
filled  Natalie's  soul  as  with  strains  of  enchanted  music, 
while  the  holy  fire  of  enthusiasm  burned  in  her  troubled 
heart 

"  Tell  me,  Dimitri  Nicolaitcli,"  she  said  one  day  as  she. 
was  sitting  over  her  embroidery  by  the  window,  "  are  you 
going  to  St.  Petersburg  this  winter  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Roudine,  letting  a  book  he 
had  been  running  over,  fall  into  his  lap  ;  "  if  I  can  get  the 
means  I  shall  go." 

He  spoke  languidly ;  all  the  morning  he  had  seemed 
tired  and  dejected. 


HO  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  I  think  you  will  find  the  means." 

Roudine  shook  his  head. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  and  he  glanced  at  her  from  one 
Bide,  with  a  look  full  of  meaning.  . 

Natalie  was  about  to  answer,  but  she  stopped. 

"  See,"  began  Roudine,  pointing  towards  the  window, 
"  do  you  see  that  apple-tree  ?  It  is  broken  down  by  the 
abundance  of  the  fruit.  A  true  picture  of  genius." 

"  It  is  broken  because  it  had  no  support,"  answered 
Natalie. 

"I  understand  you,  Natalie;  but  it  is  not  so  easy  for 
man  to  find  this  support." 

"  I  should  think  the  sympathy  of  others  ....  but 
isolation  at  any  rate  "  .  .  .  .  Natalie  became  embarrassed, 
and  blushed.  "  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  in  the 
country  this  winter  ?  "  she  added  quickly. 

"  What  am  I  going  to  do  ?  I  shall  finish  my  long  article 
—  you  know  —  on  tragedy  in  life  and  in  art.  I  told  you 
my  design  day  before  yesterday  ;  I  will  send  it  to  you." 

"  And  shall  you  have  it  printed  ?  " 


Dimitri  Roudine.  Ill 

"No." 

"  But  why  not  ?  For  whom  then  do  you  do  this  work  ?  * 

"  What  if  it  were  for  you  ?  " 

Natalie  lowered  her  eyes. 

"  It  would  be  far  above  me,  Dimitri  Nicolaitch." 

"May  I  ask  the  subject  of  the  article?'*  asked  Bas- 
sistoff  modestly.  He  was  sitting  at  a  little  distance  from 
them. 

"  On  tragedy  in  life  and  in  art,"  answered  Roudine. 
"  And  Mr.  Bassistoff  will  read  it  too.  Then  I  have  not 
yet  quite  made  up  my  mind  about  the  fundamental  idea. 
Hitherto  I  have  not  given  enough  attention  to  the  tragic 
import  of  love." 

Love  was  a  favorite  and  frequent  subject  of  Roudine's 
conversation.  At  first  Miss  Boncourt  used  to  start  and 
prick  up  her  ears  at  the  mention  of  the  word,  like  an  old 
war-horse  at  the  sound  of  a  trumpet ;  but  gradually  she 
had  grown  used  to  it,  and  now  she  merely  pursed  her  lips 
and  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  at  intervals,  whenever  she  heard 
the  word. 


H2  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Natalie  modestly,  "  that  the 
tragedy  of  love  is  simply  unrequited  love." 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Roudine,  "  that  is  rather  the 
comic  side  of  love ;  one  must  look  at  the  question  in  an 
entirely  different  way  —  go  into  it  more  profoundly. 
Love,"  he  continued,  "  everything  about  it  is  a  mystery ; 
the  way  it  appears,  grows,  vanishes.  At  one  time  it  starts 
forth  suddenly,  unmistakably,  joyous  as  the  day ;  another 
time  it  smoulders  a  long  time,  like  fire  beneath  the  ashes, 
and  bursts  out  in  the  soul  when  everything  is  destroyed ; 
again  it  creeps  into  the  heart  like  a  serpent,  to  disappear 

as  soon Yes,  yes,  it  is  a  great  question.  And  who 

is  there  who  loves  nowadays?  Who  knows  how  to 
love  ?  " 

Roudine  grew  thoughtful. 

"  Why  have  we  not  seen  Sergius  Paulovitch  for  so  long 
a  time  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

Natalie  blushed  deeply,  and  lowered  her  head  over  her 
work. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered  in  a  low  voice. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  113 

"  What  a  noble,  excellent  man  !  "  said  Roudine,  rising. 
"  He  is  one  of  the  best  types  of  the  Russian  gentleman." 

Miss  Boncourt  looked  at  him  from  one  'side  with  her 
little  French  eyes. 

Roudine  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  Have  you  ever  noticed,"  he  asked,  turning  suddenly 
upon  his  heels,  "  that  the  oak  —  and  the  oak  is  a  strong 
tree  —  only  loses  its  old  leaves  when  the  new  leaves  begin 
to  burst  forth  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Natalie,  "  I  have  noticed  it." 

"  Tt  is  the  same  way  with  old  love  in  a  strong  heart.  It 
is  already  dead,  and  yet  it  survives  itself ;  and  only  a  new 
love  can  drive  it  away." 

Natalie  did  not  answer. 

"  What  does  he  mean  ?  "  she  thought. 

Roudine  stood  for  a  moment  without  moving,  shook  his 
hair,  and  went  out. 

Natalie  went  to  her  own  room,  where  she  remained  for 

i 

some  time  sitting  on  her  bed,  buried  in  thought.     For  a 

long  time  she  thought  over  those  last  words  of  Roudine, 
8 


H4  Dimitri  Roudine. 

then  suddenly  she  clasped  her  hands  and  burst  into  tears, 
Why  she  wept  —  God  alone  knows  !  She  herself  did  not 
know  why  her  tears  burst  forth  so  suddenly.  She  dried 
them,  but  again  they  fell,  like  water  from  a  long  confined 
spring. 

On  this  very  day,  Alexandra  had  had  a  long  talk  with 
Leschnieff  about  Roudine.  At  first  Leschnieff  tried  to 
maintain  a  stolid  silence,  but  she  was  determined  to  get 
some  definite  information  from  him. 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  "  you  still  dislike  Roudine  as  much 
as  ever.  Until  to-day  I  have  refrained  from  asking  you  ; 
feut  now,  you  must  have  made  up  your  mind  as  to  whether 
there  is  any  change  in  him,  and  I  should  like  to  know  why 
he  does  not  please  you." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Leschnieff,  with  his  usual  calm- 
ne?s,  "  if  you  are  really  so  impatient ;  but  remember,  you 
must  not  get  angry  "  — 

"  Well,  well ;  begin,  begin." 

"  And  you  must  let  me  go  on  till  I  have  finished/ 

<{  Qf  course  ;  do  begin." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  115 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  began  Leschnieff,  slowly  sinking  into 
an  easy-chair.  "  It  is  true  that  I  told  you  I  did  not  like 
Roudine.  He  is  an  intelligent  man." 

"  That  can't  be  denied." 

"  He  is  a  remarkably  intelligent  man,  in  spite  of  his 
shallowness  "  — 

"  That  is  easily  said." 

"  In  spite  of  his  shallowness,"  repeated  Leschnieff. 
"  But  that  is  not  the  point ;  we  all  have  more  or  less  of 
that.  I  don't  reproach  him  for  having  a  tyrannical  nature, 
for  his  idleness,  nor  because  his  knowledge  is  scrappy  "  — 

Alexandra  clasped  her  hands. 

"  Roudine's  knowledge  scrappy  1 "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Scrappy,"  repeated  Leschnieff  in  the  same  tone.  "  He 
likes  to  live  at  others'  expense,  to  be  always  playing  a 
part, — to  humbug  people,  in  a  word.  All  that  is  in  the 
nature  of  things.  But  a  worse  thing  is,  that  he  is  as  cold 
as  ice." 

"  He  cold  !  "  interrupted  Alexandra. 

"  Yes,  cold  as  ice ;  he  knows  it,  and  is  always  trying  to 


n6  Dimitri  Roudine. 

simulate  passion.  It  is  bad,"  continued  Leschnieff,  grad- 
ually growing  excited,  "  because  the  part  he  is  playing  is 
very  dangerous ;  not  for  him,  for  he  risks  neither  his  for- 
tune nor  his  life,  —  but  for  others  who  risk  their  souls." 

"  Of  whom  are  you  talking  ?  I  don't  understand  you," 
said  Alexandra  Paulovna. 

"  I  charge  him  with  a  lack  of  honesty.  He  is  an  intelli- 
gent man,  and  must  know  the  value  of  his  words;  and 
yet  he  utters  them  as  if  they  came  from  the  bottom  of  his 
heart.  He  is  eloquent  —  I  don't  deny  that ;  but  he  has  not 
the  eloquence  of  a  Russian.  Besides,  if  one  excuses  fine 
talking  in  a  young  man,  is  it  not  a  shame  for  a  man  of 
Roudine's  age  to  take  pleasure  in  the  sound  of  his  own 
voice  ?  It  is  shameful  to  be  playing  such  a  comedy." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Michael  Michaelovitch,  that  for  those 
who  are  listening  to  him  it  makes  very  little  difference 
whether  he  is  playing  a  part  or  not." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Alexandra  Paulovna,  there  is  a 
very  great  difference.  One  person  will  utter  a  word  and  I 
am  thrilled  by  it ;  some  one  else  will  say  the  same  thing  or 


Dimitri  Rotidine.  117 

Bometliing  even  more  eloquent,  and  I  don't  even  prick  up 
my  ears.  What  is  the  reason  of  that  ?  " 

"  You  won't  prick  up  your  ears,  but  how  'about  other 
people  ?  "  asked  Alexandra. 

"  Possibly,"  answered  Leschnieff,  "  although  my  ears 
are  long,  you  mean.  But  the  fact  is,  that  Roudine's 
words  are  merely  words,  and  they  will  never  become  deeds ; 
but  that  does  not  prevent  his  words  from  troubling  and 
destroying  the  happiness  of  a  young  heart." 

"But  of  whom  are  you  speaking,  Michael  Michael- 
ovitch  ?  " 

Leschnieff  hesitated. 

"  You  want  to  know  whom  I  mean  ?  Natalie  Alexievna." 

For  a  moment  Alexandra  was  confused,  but  in  a  moment 
she  began  to  smile. 

"  Dear  me  1 "  she  said,  "  what  singular  ideas  you  have  1 
Natalie  is  a  mere  child,  and  then  besides,  isn't  her  mother 
there  ?  " 

"  Daria  is  more  than  anything  an  egoist,  who  only  lives 
for  herself.  Besides,  she  has  such  perfect  confidence  in 


n8  Dimitri  Roudine. 

the  education  she  gives  her  children,  that  it  would  never 
enter  her  head  to  be  anxious  about  her  daughter.  How 
could  she  ?  One  sign,  a  majestic  glance,  and  all  would  set 
itself  straight  again.  That's  what  this  woman  thinks,  who 
imagines  herself  a  Maecenas,  a  remarkable  person,  and 
Heaven  knows  what  else  ;  and  who  really  is  nothing  but  a 
silly  woman  of  the  world.  Natalie  is  nc  child,  you  may 
be  sure ;  she  reflects  more  frequently  and  profoundly  over 
all  sorts  of  matters  than  you  and  I  together.  And  such  a 
sincere  and  warm-hearted  character  must  run  against  this 
actor,  this  frivolous  fellow !  But  that  is  the  way  of  the 
world." 

"  Frivolous  !  Do  you  call  him  frivolous  ?  " 
"  Of  course.  But  I  ask  you  frankly,  Alexandra  Pau- 
lovna,  what  sort  of  a  position  does  he  have  at  Daria  Mich- 
aelovna's?  To  be  the  idol,  the  oracle  of  the  house,  to 
busy  himself  with  all  the  petty  household  details,  to  listen 
to  all  the  miserable  gossip  and  chatter  —  is  that  worthy 
of  a  man  ?  " 

Alexandra  looked  at  Leschnieff  with  amazement. 


Dimitri  Rotidine.  119 

"I  hardly  recognize  you,  Michael  Michaelovitch,"  she 
said.  "  Your  face  is  on  fire,  you  are  excited.  I  am  sure 
that  behind  all  this  there  is  some  secret  which  you  are 
keeping  hidden." 

"  Exactly.  I  ought  to  have  expected  such  a  suspicion. 
Tell  a  woman  anything  honestly  and  without  reserve,  and 
she  will  have  no  peace  until  she  has  cooked  up  some  petty 
and  foreign  motive  that  explains  why  you  expressed  your- 
self in  just  that  way  and  no  other.'* 

Alexandra  Paulovna  began  to  be  annoyed. 

"  Bravo,  Mr.  Leschnieff  1  you  treat  women  almost  as 
well  as  Mr.  Pigasoff  himself;  still,  with  all  respect,  how- 
ever keen  your  eyes  may  be,  I  find  it  hard  to  believe  that 
in  so  short  a  time  you  have  been  able  to  see  through  so 
many  things,  and  to  get  so  complete  a  knowledge  of  peo- 
ple. I  think  you  are  mistaken.  According  to  you,  Rou- 
dine  is  a  sort  of  Tartuffe  ?  " 

"  Not  even  as  much  as  that.  Tartuffe  knew  at  least 
what  he  wanted  to  do,  while  our  friend,  with  all  his  intel- 
ligence "  — 


I2O  Dimitri  Roudine. 

Lesclmieff  stopped. 

"  What  were  you  going  to  say  ?  Finish  your  sentence, 
you  unjust,  harsh  man." 

Leschnieff  arose. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Alexandra  Paulovna,"  he  began ;  "  it  is 
you  who  are  unjust,  not  I.  You  are  angry  at  my  harsh 
judgment  of  Roudine,  but  I  have  a  right  to  judge  him 
harshly.  Perhaps,  too,  I  have  acquired  this  right  at  rathei 
a  high  price.  I  know  him  well ;  I  once  lived  with  him  a 
long  time.  Y&H  will  remember  I  promised  to  tell  you, 
sometime,  about  our  life  at  Moscow.  Apparently,  I  must 
do  it  now.  But  will  you  have  the  patience  to  hear  me  to 
the  end  ?  " 

"  Go  on,  go  on  I  " 

Leschnieff  began  to  walk  slowly  up  and  down  the  room  ; 
from  time  to  time  he  stopped  and  bowed  his  head. 
"  "  Perhaps  you  know,"  he  began,  "  that  I  was  left  an 
orphan  very  young,  and  that  at  sixteen  I  knew  no  other 
authority  than  my  own.  I  lived  with  an  aunt  of  mine  at 
Moscow,  and  did  whatever  I  pleased.  I  was  a  tolerably 


Dimitri  Roudine.  121 

empty-headed,  conceited  young  fellow,  and  I  liked  to  make 
myself  heard.  When  I  entered  the  university  I  acted  like 
a  genuine  student,  and  soon  found  myself  implicated  in  a 
very  disagreeable  affair.  I  won't  describe  it ;  it  is  not 
worth  while.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  I  had  to  lie  about  it, 
and  in  a  very  unpleasant  way.  The  whole  story  came  out, 
and  I  was  overwhelmed  with  shame.  I  lost  my  head  and 
cried  like  a  child.  This  incident  took  place  at  the  rooms 
of  one  of  my  acquaintances,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  great 
number  of  my  comrades.  They  all  made  fan  of  me,  with 
the  exception  of  one,  who,  please  observe,  had  been  severer 
than  the  others  so  long  as  I  had  been  obstinate  and  had  re- 
fused to  confess  my  lie.  I  don't  know  whether  he  had  pity 
on  me,  but  he  took  my  arm  and  led  me  away  to  his  room." 

"  That  was  Roudine  ?  "  asked  Alexandra  Paulo vna. 

"  No,  it  was  not  Roudine ;  it  Avas  a  man  —  he  is  now 
dead  —  a  rather  remarkable  man.  His  name  was  Pokorsky. 
I  can't  describe  him  in  a  few  words,  and  if  I  begin  to  talk 
about  him  I  shall  not  be  able  to  speak  of  anything  else. 
He  had  a  pure,  lofty  character,  and  an  intellect  such  as  I 


122  Dimitri  Roudine. 

have  not  seen  since.  Pokorsky  lived  in  a  little,  low  room 
in  an  old,  wooden  house.  He  was  very  poor,  and  supported 
himself  as  well  as  he  could  by  giving  lessons.  He  could  not 
even  afford  to  give  his  visitors  a  cup  of  tea  of  an  evening, 
and  his  only  sofa  was  so  worn  out  by  long  use  that  it  looked 
not  unlike  a  boat.  But  in  spite  of  the  lack  of  comforts,  he 
always  had  a  great  many  visitors.  Every  one  liked  him ; 
he  charmed  every  one.  You  can't  imagine  how  pleasant  it 
was  to  visit  him  in  his  little  room.  It  was  then  that  I  made 
Roudine's  acquaintance.  He  had  already  left  his  prince." 
"  What  was  there  so  remarkable  about  Pokorsky  ?  " 
"  How  can  I  tell  you  ?  Poetry  and  truth,  they  drew 
every  one  to  him.  With  his  clear,  broad  mind  he  was  as 
amiable  and  amusing  as  a  child.  I  can  still  hear  his  joyous 
laugh,  and  besides,  '  He  glowed  for  what  was  good  as  quietly 
and  steadily  as  the  lamp  before  the  images  of  the  saints,' 
as  a  half-mad  poet,  one  of  our  set,  but  a  very  good  fellow, 
said  about  him." 

"  And    how  did   he   talk  ? "    again    asked    Alexandra 
Paulovna. 


Dimitri  Roudine. 

.    s  f 
"  He  talked  well  when  the  inspiration  seized  him,  but 

not  surpassingly  so.  Even  then  Roudine  was  twenty  times 
as  eloquent  as  he." 

Leschnieff  stopped  and  folded  his  arms,  then  he  went 
on. 

"  Pokorsky  and  Roudine  were  not  at  all  alike.  Roudine 
had  much  more  brilliancy  and  show,  an  easier  flow  of 
words,  and,  if  you  wish  it,  more  enthusiasm.  He  seemed 
to  have  more  talent  than  Pokorsky,  but,  in  fact,  in  compar- 
ison with  him,  he  was  a  very  poor  fellow.  Roudine  would 
talk  admirably  about  the  first  idea  that  came  into  his  head, 
and  he  argued  with  wonderful  brilliancy,  but  his  ideas 
never  came  from  his  own  head  ;  he  took  them  from  every- 
body, and  particularly  from  Pokorsky.  Judging  from 
appearances,  Pokorsky  was  phlegmatic,  unenergetic,  even 
weak.  He  was  fond  of  women,  he  never  refused  a  glass  of 
wine,  but  he  would  never  have  taken  an  insult  from  any 
one.  Roudine  appeared  full  of  fire,  boldness,  and  life,  but 
at  bottom  he  was  cold  and  almost  a  coward,  so  long  aa 
his  self-love  was  not  touched ;  if  it  were,  he'd  have  gone 


124  Dimitri  Roudine. 

through  fire  and  water.  He  was  always  trying  to  rule 
others  ;  he  overcame  them  with  his  high-sounding  phrases 
about  universal  principles  and  ideas,  and  he  really  exer- 
cised a  great  influence  on  very  many  of  us.  It  is  true,  that 
no  one  liked  him ;  I  was  perhaps  the  only  one  who  had 
drawn  closely  to  him.  His  yoke  was  endured  —  but  all 
bowed  willingly  before  Pokorsky.  Roudine  never  lost  an 
opportunity  to  discuss  and  argue  with  any  one.  He  had 
not  read  a  great  deal,  yet  much  more  than  Pokorsky 
and  the  rest  of  us,  and  besides,  he  had  a  methodical  mind 
and  an  excellent  memory  ;  and  all  this  never  failed  of 
its  influence  on  young  men.  They  must  have  results, 
conclusions,  even  if  they  be  inaccurate.  A  thoroughly 
conscientious  man  is  of  no  weight  in  their  eyes.  Try  to 
tell  young  men  that  you  cannot  impart  them  perfect  truth, 
because  you  have  not  found  it  yourself —  they  won't  listen 
to  you.  But  it  is  just  as  hard  to  deceive  them.  It  is 
absolutely  necessary  in  order  to  convince  them,  that  you 
should  be  half  convinced  yourself.  Hence  Roudine  had 
Buch  influence  on  us  all.  I  just  told  you  he  had  not  read  a 


Dimitri  Roudine.  125 

great  deal ;  but  he  had  some  knowledge  of  philosophical 
books,  and  a  sort  of  mind  which  enabled  him  to  get  the 
general  meaning  of  what  he  read.  He  seized  the  main 
idea  of  the  subject,  and  then  abandoned  himself  to  its 
clear  and  methodical  development,  which  he  would  present 
with  great  skill,  inventing  arguments  as  he  went  along. 
To  tell  the  truth,  I  ought  to  say  that  we  were  a  set  of  very 
young,  half-educated  boys.  Philosophy,  art,  science,  life 
itself,  were  for  us  mere  words,  vague  though  attractive 
ideas.  We  had  no  suspicion  of  there  being  any  general 
connection  between  these  ideas,  or  any  common  universal 
law  ;  nothing  of  the  sort  ever  occurred  to  us,  although  we 
were  continually  discussing  these  subjects  and  struggling 
to  get  some  light.  When  we  were  listening  to  Roudine  it 
seemed  to  us  that  for  the  first  time  we  had  found  it,  this 
universal  connection ;  we  thought  that  now  the  curtain  was 
going  to  rise  before  us.  To  be  sure,  he  gave  it  to  us  all  at 
second  hand  —  but  what  difference  did  that  make  ?  We 
had  a  regular  order  in  everything  we  knew  ;  all  that 
had  been  fragmentary,  combined  suddenly,  took  its  place, 


126  Dimitri  Roudine. 

and  grew  up  before  us  like  a  vast  edifice  ;  everywhere  was 
light ;  from  all  sides  streamed  the  breath  of  life.  Nothing 
remained  incomprehensible  or  accidental.  For  us  in  all 
creation  there  appeared  only  reasonable  beauty  and  neces- 
sity. To  everything  was  imparted  a  meaning,  both  clear 
and  mysterious.  Every  separate  phenomenon  of  life 
seemed  an  accord  in  a  vast  concert,  and  we,  filled  with  the 
holy  awe  caused  by  a  profound  veneration,  compared  our- 
selves to  living  receptacles  of  eternal  truth.  We  thought 
ourselves  instruments  designed  for  some  great  work. 
Does  it  not  seem  ridiculous  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Alexandra  slowly.  "  Why  should 
you  think  so  ?  I  don't  perfectly  understand  you,  but  it 
doesn't  seem  ridiculous." 

"  Since  that  time,"  continued  Leschnieff,  "  we  have  had 
a  chance  to  grow  wiser ;  all  that  must  seem  to  us  now  like 
foolishness.  I  repeat  it,  we  owed  a  great  deal  then  to  Rou- 
dine. Pokorsky  was  much  his  superior,  without  doubt ;  at 
times,  too,  he  used  to  animate  us  with  his  fire  and  force,  but 
then  again  he  felt  averse  to  exertion  and  was  silent.  He 


Dimitri  Roudine.  127 

was  a  nervous,  delicate  man ;  if  he  had  unfolded  his  wings 
—  where  would  they  not  have  taken  him  ?  Straight  to  the 
deepest  blue  of  the  heavens.  But  in  Roudine,  this  hand- 
some, brilliant  young  man,  there  was  a  great  deal  that  was 
petty ;  he  liked  to  gossip ;  he  liked  to  have  a  hand  in 
everything  ;  to  have  his  say  and  explain  everything.  His 
unceasing  activity  never  knew  repose.  I  speak  of  him  as  I 
knew  him  then.  He  has  unfortunately  not  altered  a  bit. 
There  is  no  change  in  his  opinions  —  at  thirty-five  !  It  is 
not  every  one  who  can  say  that."  /**- 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Alexandra  Paulovna,  "  you  need  not 
walk  up  and  down  the  room  as  if  you  were  a  pendulum." 

V 

"  I  like  it  better,"  answered  Leschnieff'. '  "  No  sooner  - 
had  I  become  acquainted  with  Pokorsky  and  his  friends, 
than  I  felt  myself  born  again.  I  grew  calm,  I  asked 
questions,  I  studied,  I  was  happy,  and  I  felt  a  sort  of  rev- 
erence, as  if  I  had  entered  into  a  sanctuary.  In  fact,  when 
I  recall  our  meetings  —  yes,  there  was  something  grand, 
something  really  touching  about  them.  Imagine  about  five 
or  six  young  men  sitting  together,  only  one  candle  lighting 


128  Dimitri  Roudine. 

.:  * 

them,  they  drinking  wretched  tea  and  eating  some  stale 
cake ;  but  look  at  our  faces,  listen  to  our  talk  !  In  every  one's 
face  there  is  enthusiasm,  and  our  cheeks  are  aglow,  our  heart 
is  beating,  we  are  talking  of  God,  of  truth,  of  the  future,  of 
humanity,  of  poetry,  —  at  times  a  good  deal  of  nonsense 
and  crudity,  but  what  is  the  harm?  Pokorsky  is  sitting 
there  with  his  legs  under  his  chair,  resting  his  pale  cheek 
on  his  hands,  but  how  his  eyes  are  sparkling !  Roudine  is 
in  the  middle  of  the  room ;  he  talks  admirably,  like  the 
young  Demosthenes  on  the  sea-shore.  Subotine,  the  long- 
haired poet,  from  time  to  time  ejaculates  broken  sentences, 
as  if  he  were  dreaming.  Scheller,  the  son  of  a  German 
clergyman,  who  was  forty  years  old,  and  who,  thanks  to  his 
eternal  unbroken  silence,  passes  for  a  very  profound 
thinker,  is  now  more  solemnly  silent  than  ever.  The  jolly 
Schitow  himself,  the  Aristophanes  of  the  company,  grows 
still  and  only  smiles  ;  two  or  three  novices  are  listening  in 
a  sort  of  ecstacy  —  and  the  night  passes  with  its  flight  un- 
noticed. Then  the  gray  dawn  appears,  and  we  separate 
joyous,  sober,  —  for  we  never  thought  then  of  wine,  — with 


Dintitri  Roudine.  129 

a  certain  lassitude,  but  with  contented  hearts.  I  remember 
it  well,  how  all  aglow  with  excitement  I  walked  through 
the  deserted  streets,  and  even  gazed  up  at  the  stars  with  a 
certain  confidence,  as  if  they  had  come  nearer,  and  we  could 
understand  them  better.  Ah  1  that  was  a  happy  time,  and 
I  cannot  believe  it  was  wholly  wasted.  No,  it  was  not 
wholly  lost,  not  even  for  those  who  have  sunk  into  the 
dreariest  monotony  of  life.  Occasionally  I  have  met  one 
of  our  old  companions.  You  would  have  thought  he  had 
become  a  brute,  but  you  only  needed  to  pronounce  Pokor- 
sky's  name,  and  every  trace  of  noble  feeling  left  within  him 
was  aroused.  It  was  like  uncorking  a  flask  of  perfume  which 
one  had  found  forgotten  in  some  dark,  obscure  corner."  ]f,  — 

Leschnieff  was  silent ;  his  pale  face  was  flushed. 

"  But  why,  when,  did  you  quarrel  with  Roudine  ?  "  asked 
Alexandra  Paulovna,  looking  at  him  intently. 

"  I  did  not  quarrel  with  him ;  I  parted  from  him  finally 
when  I  had  learned  to  know  him  in  foreign  parts.  I  might 
have  separated  from  him  at  Moscow,  because  even  there  he 
treated  me  badly." 


130  Dimitri  Roudine, 

«'  How  so  ?  " 

"I  will  tell  you.  I  have  always  been  —  how  shall  I 
express  myself?  —  it  does  not  match  my  appearance  —  I 
have  always  been  very  much  inclined  to  fall  in  love." 

"You?" 

"Yes,  I.  That  is  strange,  is  it  not?  But  it  is  true, 
nevertheless.  Well,  I  was  interested  at  that  time  in  a  very 
charming  young  girl  —  why  do  you  look  at  me  so  ?  I  could 
tell  you  something  which  would  surprise  you  much  more." 

"  What  is  it  ?  you  make  me  curious." 

"  Simply  this.  During  this  time  at  Moscow,  I  used  to 
have  a  rendezvous  at  night  —  with  whom  do  you  suppose  ? 
—  with  a  young  linden-tree  at  the  end  of  the  garden.  When 
I  embraced  its  slender  trunk  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  clasped 
the  universe  ;  my  heart  swelled  within  me  and  quivered  as 
if  all  nature  had  penetrated  into  it.  Yes,  that  is  what  I 
was.  Do  you  imagine  possibly  that  I  didn't  write  verses 
at  that  period?  You  would  be  very  much  mistaken.  I 
composed  a  whole  play  in  imitation  of  Byrou'&  '  Manfred.' 
Among  the  characters  was  a  ghost ;  from  his  heart  streamed 


Dimitri  Roudine.  131 

bkod,  but  not,  of  course,  his  own  blood,  but  that  of  all  hu 
manity.     Yes,  but  don't  be  astonished.     I  have  changed  * 
great  deal,  have  I  not  ?    But  I  began  to  tell  you  my  ro 
niance.     I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  young  woman  "  — 

"  And  you  gave  up  your  visits  to  the  linden  ?  "  asked 
Alexandra  Paulovna. 

"  I  gave  them  up.  That  young  woman  was  very  good- 
natured,  which  did  not  prevent  her  being  very  pretty. 
Her  eyes  were  bright  and  limpid,  her  voice  as  clear  as  a 
bell." 

"You  give  me  a  life-like  description,"  said  Alexandra 
with  a  fine  smile. 

"  You  are  a  harsh  critic,"  answered  Leschnieff.  "  Well, 
this  girl  used  to  live  with  her  old  father  —  but  I  won't  go 
into  tiresome  details.  I  must  repeat,  however,  that  she  was 
really  as  kind  a  creature  as  you  can  imagine ;  she  was  sure 
to  nil  the  cup  to  the  brim,  if  I  asked  for  only  half  a  cup  of 
tea.  Thr^e  days  after  our  first  meeting,  I  was  madly  in 
love  with  her,  and  at  the  end  of  a  week  I  could  not  help 
confiding  the  whole  story  to  Roudine.  Young  lovers  can 


132  Dimitri  Roudine. 

never  keep  their  feelings  to  themselves.  At  that  time  I 
was  very  much  under  his  influence,  and  this  influence,  I 
must  confess,  was  in  many  ways  beneficial.  He  was  the 
first  person  who  ever  paid  me  any  attention  ;  he  gave  me  a 
sort  of  polish.  I  was  passionately  devoted  to  Pokorsky,  but 
I  felt  a  certain  timidity  before  the  purity  of  his  soul.  I  was 
more  intimate  with  Roudine.  When  he  heard  about  my 
love,  he  became  indescribably  enthusiastic,  he  congratu- 
lated me,  fell  on  my  neck,  and  even  began  to  make  long 
speeches  to  me  to  show  the  importance  of  my  new  condi- 
tion. I  was  all  attention  —  you  know,  too,  how  he  talks. 
His  words  made  a  very  great  impression  on  me.  I  sud- 
denly conceived  a  very  high  opinion  of  myself,  adopted  a 
very  serious  air,  and  gave  up  laughing.  I  remember  I 
even  began  to  walk  pompously,  as  if  I  were  balancing  a 
vessel  full  of  some  precious  liquid  which  I  feared  to 
spill.  I  was  very  happy,  and  all  the  more  so  because  I 
met  with  no  rebuffs.  Roudine  wanted  to  make  the  girl's 
acquaintance ;  perhaps  I  even  insisted  on  introducing 
him." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  133 

"  Ah !  I  see  what  you  have  against  him,"  interrupted 
Alexandra  Paulovna.  "Roudine  cut  you  out,  and  you 
cannot  forgive  him  for  it.  I  would  be  willing  to  bet  I've 
hit  it." 

"  And  you  would  lose  your  bet,  Alexandra  Paulovna. 
You  are  wrong.  Roudine  did  not  cut  me  out,  nor  did  he 
try  to,  and  yet  he  ruined  my  happiness ;  though  now,  look- 
ing at  it  in  cold  blood,  I  feel  very  grateful  to  him.  But 
then  it  almost  drove  me  out  of  my  head.  Roudine  did  not 
mean  to  do  me  an  ill  turn  —  on  the  contrary.  But  follow- 
ing his  wretched  habit  of  dissecting  every  phenomenon  of 
his  own  life  and  that  of  others,  and  pinning  them  with 
some  phrase,  as  one  pins  butterflies  in  a  case,  he  began  to 
explain  to  us  the  nature  of  our  feelings,  to  define  our  rela- 
tions to  one  another,  our  conduct,  to  oblige  us  to  take  ac- 
count of  our  impressions  and  thoughts,  and,  passing  from 
praise  to  blame,  he  even  went  so  far  —  can  you  believe  it  ? 
—  as  to  enter  into  correspondence  with  us.  In  a  word,  he 
managed  to  throw  us  into  perfect  confusion.  Then  I  could 
hardly  have  married  the  girl,  so  much  common  sense  at 


Tj4  Dimitri  Roudine. 

any  rate  was  left  in  me ;  yet  we  might  have  passed  a  few 
happy  months  like  Paul  and  Virginia.  But  there  cam« 
misunderstandings  and  complications  of  every  sort.  The 
end  of  it  all  was,  that  one  fine  day  Roudine  imagined  it  was 
his  solemn  duty,  as  friend,  to  inform  the  father  of  what  was 
going  on,  and  he  did." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  cried  Alexandra  Paulovna. 

"  Yes,  and  observe,  it  was  with  my  consent.  That  is  the 
strangest  part  of  it.  I  well  remember  the  perfect  chaos  in 
•which  I  was  plunged.  Everything  was  turning  and  chang- 
ing as  in  a  magic-lantern ;  black  seemed  white,  and  white 
black ;  falsehood  truth,  and  whim  duty.  I  blush  to-day 
when  I  think  of  it.  Roudine  wastfnot  dismayed  —  why 
should  he  have  been? — he  soared  above  these  misun- 
derstandings and  complications  like  a  swallow  over  a 
lake." 

"And  so  that  is  the  way  you  parted  from  the  girl?* 
asked  Alexandra  Paulovna,  naively  bending  her  head  a 
trifle,  and  raising  her  eyebrows. 

"I   parted   from   her;    it  was  a  very  bad,  offensive^ 


Dimitri  Roudine.  135 

tactless,  uselessly  public  parting;  I  wept,  she  wept,  and 
the  deuce  knows  how  it  was.  A  gordian  knot  held  us.  '  I 
ought  to  have  cut  it  boldly,  but  that  would  have  been  pain- 
ful. But  then  it  all  settled  itself  in  the  best  possible  way. 
She  has  since  married  an  excellent  man,  and  is  perfectly 
happy." 

"  Now  confess  you  have  never  been  able  to  forgive  Rou- 
dine," said  Alexandra. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  answered  Leschnieff.  "  I  cried 
like  a  child  when  he  left  the  country.  But  to  tell  the  truth, 
the  germ  of  my  present  opinion  was  already  lying  in  my 
mind.  When  I  next  met  him  I  was  older,  and  Roudine 
appeared  to  me  in  his  true  colors/' 

"  How  was  it  you  found  him  out  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I've  been  telling  you  this  last  hour.  But 
enough  about  him.  Perhaps  it  will  all  come  out  right 
yet.  I  only  wanted  to  convince  you  that  if  I  judged  him 
harshly,  it  was  because  I  knew  him  well.  As  for  Natalie 
Alexievna  —  why  waste  one's  words  ?  But  consider  yout 
brother." 


136  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"My  brother,  and  why  ?  " 

"  Just  observe  him.    Don't  you  notice  anything  ?  " 

Alexandra  lowered  her  eyes. 

"  You  are  right,"  she  said ;  "  my  brother  —  he's  been 
another  man  for  some  time  ;  but  do  you  think  "  — 

"  Hush  !  I  think  I  hear  him  coming,"  whispered  Lesch- 
nieff.  "  Believe  me,  Natalie  is  no  child,  although  she 
lacks  experience.  You  will  see  she  will  surprise  us  all 
yet." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Don't  rely  on  her  calm  appearance.  Don't  you  know 
those  are  just  the  girls  who  drown  themselves,  who  take 
poison,  and  all  that?  Her  passions  are  strong,  and  her 
character  too." 

"  Really,  you  are  rising  into  lyric  poetry.  To  such  a 
calm-blooded  person  as  you,  I  probably  seem  like  a  vol- 
cano." 

"  Oh  no,  you  are  no  volcano,"  answered  Leschnieff',  smil- 
ing ;  "  and  as  for  character,  thank  Heaven,  you  haven't 
any." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  137 

"  What  new  impertinence  is  that  ?  " 

"Really,  that  impertinence  is  a  very  great  compli- 
ment." 

Volinzoff  entered  the  room  casting  suspicious  glances  at 
his  sister  and  Leschnieff.  Within  a  few  weeks  he  had  grown 
thin.  Alexandra  and  Leschnieff  tried  to  talk  to  him,  but 
he  only  answered  their  jests  with  a  smile.  He  seemed  like 
a  "  melancholy  hare,"  as  Pigasoff  said  in  speaking  of  him 
one  evening.  Volinzoff  felt  that  Natalie  was  slipping  from 
him,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  at  the  same  time  the  earth 
was  falling  away  from  beneath  his  feet. 


vm. 

/  THE  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  Natalie  did  not  get  up 

till  rather  late.  The  previous  evening  she  had  been  very 
silent ;  she  had  felt  ashamed  of  her  tears,  and  had  slept 
badly.  She  sat  down  half  dressed  at  her  little  piano,  occa- 
sionally striking  a  few  chords,  but  very  softly,  in  order  not 
to  awaken  Miss  Boncourt ;  or  again,  resting  her  brow  on 
the  cool  keys,  she  gave  herself  up  to  reverie,  not  thinking 
so  much  of  Roudine  himself  as  of  certain  words  he  had 
uttered.  Occasionally  VolinzofPs  image  would  occur  to 
her.  She  knew  that  he  loved  her,  but  she  drove  the 
thought  from  her  mind  at  once.  She  felt  strangely  agitated. 
She  dressed  hastily,  went  down-stairs  to  bid  her  mother 
good-morning,  «nd  then  availed  herself  of  the  opportunity 
to  stroll  alone  in  the  garden. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  139 

It  was  a  warm,  clear,  sunny  day,  although  from  time  to 
time  brief  showers  fell  from  the  low,  misty  clouds  which 
were  floating  slowly  across  the  sky,  without  obscuring  the 
sun.  Large,  glistening  drops  on  which  the  sun  was  shin- 
ing would  fall  like  diamonds  with  a  pattering  sound  ;  the 
grass,  which  had  just  bent  before  the  breeze,  was  quiet,  as 
if  to  breathe  the  dampness  exhaled  from  the  ground ;  the 
wet  leaves  rustled  on  the  trees  ;  the  birds  went  on  singing 
without  interruption,  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  listen  to  their 
joyous  twitter  through  all  the  cool  patter  of  the  rain  and 
the  soft  murmur  of  the  breeze  as  the  shower  passed  over. 
Little  whirls  of  dust  appeared  in  the  road  which  seemed 
spotted  by  the  rain-drops.  But  the  cloud  is  over,  a  light 
wind  has  arisen,  the  grass  is  aglow  with  gold  and  emerald, 

bowing   again  before  the  breeze The   leaves   are 

joined  together  by  the  rain.    It  is  lighter  in  the  summer- 
house A  rich  perfume  arises  everywhere. 

The  sky  was  nearly  clear  when  Natalie  went  into  the 
garden.  Everywhere  was  freshness  and  oalmness,  that 
gentle,  happy  calm  which  calls  up  in  the  heart  of  man 


140  Dimitri  Roudine. 

a  soft,  mysterious,  sympathetic  languor,  and  vague  de- 
sires. 

As  Natalie  was  walking  beneath  a  row  of  silver  poplars 
along  the  side  of  the  lake,  she  suddenly  saw  Roudine 
appear  before  her  as  if  he  had  sprung  up  from  beneath 
the  ground.  She  was  confused.  He  fastened  his  eyes 
upon  her  and  said,  — 

"  You  are  alone  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  alone,"  answered  Natalie;  "I  only  came 

out  for  a  moment  to  enjoy  the  fresh  air I  must  go 

back." 

"  I  will  go  with  you." 

And  he  walked  along  by  her  side. 

"  You  seem  out  of  spirits,"  he  said  after  a  short  pause. 

"  I  ?  ....  I  was  just  going  to  say  the  same  thing  to  you. 
You  are  rather  melancholy,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  It's  very  possible I  am  so  sometimes.  But  it's 

more  pardonable  in  me  than  in  you." 

"  Why  so  ?  Do  you  think  I  have  nothing  to  make  me 
sad?" 


Dimitri  Rondine.  141 

"  At  your  age  one  ought  to  enjoy  life." 

Natalie  walked  on  a  few  steps  in  silence. 

"  Dimitri  Nicolaitch  1 "  she  began. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Do  you  remember  ....  the  comparison  you  made/  yea- 
terday  ....  it  was  ....  about  the  oak  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember  it.     But  why  this  question  ?  " 

Natalie  glanced  at  him  askance. 

"  Why  did  you  ....  what  did  you  mean  by  that  com- 
parison ?  " 

Roudine  bowed  his  head  and  gazed  into  the  distance. 

"  Natalie  Alexievna,"  he  began,  with  his  usual  restrained 
expression,  so  full  of  meaning,  which  always  made  his 
hearers  imagine  that  he  was  telling  them  only  the  tenth 
part  of  what  burdened  his  soul,  "  Natalie  Alexievna,  you 
must  have  noticed  that  I  speak  very  little  about  my  past 
life.  There  are  certain  chords  which  I  never  touch.  My 
heart  ....  who  cares  to  know  what  it  has  undergone? 
To  make  such  things  known  I  have  always  regarded  as 
frivolity.  But  with  you  I  am  sincere  ;  you  inspire  me  with 


142  Dimitri  Roudine. 

confidence  ....  I  have  no  wish  to  conceal  from  you  that 

I  too  have  loved  and  suffered  like  every  one  else 

When  and  how  ?  it's  not  worth  while  to  speak  of  that ;  it 
is  enough  to  say  that  my  heart  has  known  great  joys  and 
great  sorrows." 

Roudine  was  silent  for  an  instant. 

"  What  I  said  to  you  yesterday,"  he  continued,  "  may 
be  applied  to  me  in  my  present  situation,  up  to  a  certain 
point.  But,  again,  there  is  no  need  of  speaking  of  that. 
This  side  of  life  has  disappeared  forever  for  me.  It  only 
remains  for  me  now  to  let  myself  be  carried  from  one  sta- 
tion to  another  over  the  hot,  dusty  highway  of  life,  in  some 
wretched  carriage When  I  shall  reach  my  destina- 
tion ....  whether  I  shall  reach  it  at  all  —  Heaven  alone 
knows Let  us  rather  talk  about  you." 

"It  is  not  possible,  Dimitri  Nicolaitch,"  interrupted 
Natalie,  "  that  you  expect  nothing  more  from  life  !  " 

"  Oh  no !  I  expect  a  great  deal ;  but  not  for  myself.  .... 
I  shall  never  give  up  my  activity,  my  delight  in  working  ; 
but  I  have  renounced  all  hope  of  enjoyment.  My  hopes,  my 


Dimitri  Roudine.  143 

visions,  have  nothing  in  common  with  my  own  happiness. 
Love  "  —  at  this  word  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  —  "  love  is 
not  for  me  ;  I  am  unworthy  of  it;  a  woman-  who  loves  has 
a  right  to  claim  that  the  man  she  has  chosen  should  be 
wholly  hers ;  but  I  can  no  longer  give  myself  up  wholly,  and 
then,  to  please  is  the  privilege  of  youth,  and  I  am  too  old. 
How  can  I  turn  girls'  heads  ?  May  I  only  keep  my  own 
on  my  shoulders  !  " 

"  I  understand,"  answered  Natalie,  "  that  any  one  who  is 
striving  for  a  lofty  aim  should  not  think  about  himself; 
but  why  should  not  a  woman  be  capable  of  appreciating 
such  men  ?  It  seems  to  me,  on  the  contrary,  that  they 
turn  away  very  quickly  from  the  egoist.  According  to 
you,  all  young  people  are  egoists ;  they  are  thinking  ojily 
of  themselves,  even  when  they  love.  Believe  me,  a  woman 
not  only  has  the  power  of  understanding  a  sacrifice,  she 
also  knows  how  to  sacrifice  herself." 

Natalie's  cheeks  were  slightly  colored,  and  her  eyes  were 
glistening.  Before  she  had  known  Roudine,  she  never 
could  have  uttered  so  long  and  passionate  a  speech. 


144  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"You  have  more  than  once  heard  my  opinions  on  the 
province  of  women,"  answered  Roudine,  with  an  indulgent 
smile.  "  You  know  I  think  that  only  Joan  of  Arc  could 

have  saved  France but  that  is  not  the  question. 

I  wanted  to  speak  about  you.  You  stand  on  the  threshold 

of  life It  is  pleasant  to  speak  about  your  future, 

and  it  may  not  be  without  profit Listen  to  me :  I 

am  your  friend,  you  know ;  I  take  as  keen  an  interest  in 

you,  as  if  I  were  a  relative Hence  I  hope  you  will 

not  consider  my  question  impertinent.  Tell  me,  has  your 
heart  always  been  completely  calm  ?  " 

Natalie  colored  deeply,  and  made  no  answer.  Roudine 
stood  still,  and  she  also. 

"  Are  you  offended  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  but  I  did  not  in  the  least  expect "  .  .  .  . 

"  Besides,"  he  continued,  "you  don't  need  to  answer  me. 
I  know  your  secret." 

Natalie  glanced  at  him  with  an  air  of  terror. 

"  Yes  ....  yes ;  I  know  who  it  is  that  pleases  you  — 
and,  I  must  say  —  you  could  not  make  a  better  choice. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  145 

He  is  an  excellent  man  ;  he  will  be  able  to  appreciate  you ; 
life  has  not  injured  him  —  his  soul  is  simple — he  will 
make  you  happy." 

"  Of  whom  are  you  speaking,  Dimitri  Nicolaitch  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  Of  Volinzoff,  of  course.  What ! 
Can  I  be  wrong  ?  " 

Natalie  turned  a  little  away  from  Roudine.  She  had 
lost  all  self-command. 

"  Doesn't  he  love  you  ?  But  see,  ^e  is  always  looking 
at  you,  he  follows  with  his  eyes  every  motion  you  make. 
And  then  can  love  hide  itself?  And  don't  you  like  him  ? 
So  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  see,  he  is  agreeable  to  your 
mother Your  choice  "  .  .  .  . 

"  Dimitri  Nicola'itch !  "  interrupted  Natalie,  in  her  con- 
fusion pointing  at  a  neighboring  bush,  "  really,  it  is  painful 
for  me  to  talk  on  this  subject,  but  I  assure  you  you  are 
mistaken." 

"  I  am  mistaken  1 "  repeated  Roudine.  "  Oh,  I  do  not 
think  so To  be  sure,  it  is  only  a  short  time  since  I 

made  your  acquaintance,  but  I  know  you  very  well.    What 
10 


146  Dimitri  Roudine. 

is  the  meaning  of  this  change  which  I  see  in  yon,  see  in 
you  very  clearly  ?  Are  you  the  same  being  I  met  here  six 
weeks  ago?  No,  Natalie  Alexievna,  your  heart  is  not 
tranquil." 

"  That  may  be,"  answered  Natalie,  in  a  hardly  audible 
voice,  "  but  still  you  are  mistaken." 

"  How  so  ?  "  asked  Roudine. 

"  Leave  me,  don't  ask  me  "  ....  said  Natalie,  walking 
rapidly  towards  the  house. 

She  was  alarmed  at  the  feeling  which  had  suddenly 
awakened  within  her. 

Roudine  hastened  after  her  and  stopped  her. 

"  Natalie  Alexievna  !  "  he  said,  "  our  conversation  can- 
not end  in  this  way  ;  it  is  of  too  much  importance  for  me. 
....  How  am  I  to  understand  you  ?  " 

"  Leave  me,"  repeated  Natalie. 

"  Natalie,  for  the  love  of  God !  " 

Roudine's  face  expressed  the  keenest  emotion.  He  had 
grown  pale. 

"  You  understand  everything,  you  ought  to  understand 


*,/, 

Dimitri  Roudine.    *  /*  147! 


j 

me,"  said  Natalie,  as  she  withdrew  her  hand  and  walked 

^^^  A  y  ,       < 

away  without  looking  around.  ^  //  \ 

"  Only  one  word,"  cried  Roudine.    She  stopped,  but  did  / 
not  turn  round. 

"  You  asked  me  what  I  meant  by  that  comparison  yes- 
terday. Hear  me.  I  do  not  wish  to  deceive  you.  I  was 
speaking  of  myself,  of  my  past  life,  and  of  you." 

"What?  of  me?" 

"  Yes,  of  you  ;  I  repeat  it  ;  I  do  not  wish  to  deceive  you. 
....  Now  you  know  of  what  feeling,  of  what  new  feel- 
ing I  was  speaking  .....  Before  to-day  I  have  never 
ventured"  .... 

Natalie  quickly  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
ran  towards  the  house.  She  was  so  agitated  at  the  unex- 
pected issue  of  her  conversation  that  she  did  not  notice 
Volinzoff,  past  whom  she  had  run.  He  stood  motionless, 
with  his  back  against  a  tree.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  before, 
he  had  arrived  at  Daria's,  had  met  her  in  the  parlor, 
said  a  word  or  two,  and  then  he  had  gone  out  to  find 
Natalie. 


148  Dimitri  Roudine. 

Guided  by  the  instinct  peculiar  to  lovers,  he  had  gon« 
straight  to  the  garden,  where  he  came  upon  Roudine  and 
Natalie  at  the  very  moment  that  she  withdrew  her  hand 
from  his.  All  grew  dark  before  his  eyes.  Gazing  after 
Natalie  he  left  the  tree,  and  advanced  a  few  steps,  without 
knowing  whither  he  was  going.  Roudine  saw  him,  and 
went  up  to  him.  They  looked  at  one  another  steadily, 
bowed,  and  separated  in  silence. 

"  This  is  not  the  end,"  they  both  thought. 

Volinzoff  walked  on  to  the  end  of  the  garden.  A  feeling 
of  stolid  despair  had  taken  possession  of  him.  A  heavy  load 
lay  on  his  heart,  and  then  suddenly  a  hot  wrath  made  the 
blood  boil  in  his  veins.  The  rain  began  to  fall  again. 
Roudine  had  gone  to  his  room.  Neither  was  he  calm  ;  his 
thoughts  were  all  in  a  whirl.  What  man  would  not  be 
perturbed  at  the  unexpected,  confiding  surrender  of  a  pure, 
noble  soul  ? 

At  table  nothing  went  smoothly.  Natalie  was  very  pale ; 
she  could  hardly  sit  up,  and  she  did  not  raise  her  eye& 
Volinzoff  sat  by  her  side,  as  usual,  and  forced  himself  to 


Dimitri  Roudine.  149 

speak  to  her  every  now  and  then.  It  happened  that 
Pigasoff  was  present,  and  he  talked  more  than  all  the  rest. 
He  undertook  to  prove,  among  other  things,  that  it  was 
possible  to  classify  men,  like  dogs,  as  long-eared  men,  and 
short-eared  men.  "  Men,"  he  said,  "  have  short  ears,  either 
from  their  birth,  or  by  their  own  fault.  In  both  cases  they 
are  to  be  pitied,  for  they  never  succeed  in  anything  —  they 
lack  self-confidence.  But  the  long-eared  man  is  fortunate. 
He  may  be  a  worse  man  or  a  weaker  man  than  the  short- 
eared  one,  but  he  has  confidence  in  himself;  he  has  only  to 
put  up  his  ears  —  and  all  admire  him.  As  for  me/'  he 
added  with  a  sigh,  "  I  belong  to  the  short-eared  class,  and 
the  worst  of  it  is,  I  clipped  my  own  ears." 

"  By  all  that,"  interrupted  Roudine  indifferently,  "  you 
mean  what  La  Rochefoucauld  said  a  long  time  ago : 
Have  confidence  in  yourself,  and  others  will  believe  in 
rou.'  I  don't  see  the  necessity  of  lugging  in  the  ears." 

"  Let  everybody  "  —  retorted  Volinzoff  curtly,  with  an 
angry  glance  — "  let  everybody  express  himself  as  he 
pleases.  We  were  talking  of  despotism In  my  opin- 


150  Dimitri  Roudine. 

ion  there's  no  more  odious  despotism  than  that  of  so-called 
intelligent  people.  Away  with  them  all  1  " 

This  outburst  of  Volinzoffs  astonished  every  one ;  no 
one  said  a  word.  Roudine  glanced  at  him,  but  unable  to 
meet  his  rival's  eyes,  he  looked  away  with  a  forced  smile 
and  said  nothing. 

"  Oh,  oh  I  so  you  too  have  short  ears  !  "  said  Pigasoff  to 
himself.  Natalie  trembled  from  fear.  Daria  Michaelovna 
gazed  for  a  long  time  with  astonishment  at  Volinzoff,  and 
was  the  first  one  to  resume  talking.  She  began  to  tell 
about  a  remarkable  dog  that  belonged  to  her  friend,  the 
minister,  N.  N. 

Volinzoif  went  off  soon  after  dinner.  In  taking  leave 
of  Natalie  he  could  not  help  saying,  — 

"  Why  are  you  so  confused,  as  if  you  had  committed  some 
crime  ?  You  cannot  be  conscious  of  any  wrong  to  any  one." 

Natalie  had  not  understood  him,  and  merely  followed  him 
with  her  eyes.  Roudine  went  up  to  her  before  tea,  and 
leaning  over  the  table  as  if  he  were  reading  a  newspaper, 
he  whispered  to  her  :  — 


Dimitri  Roudine.  151 

"  It  is  all  like  a  dream,  is  it  not  ?  I  must  see  you  alone 
....  if  only  for  an  instant."  He  turned  towards  Miss 
Boncourt.  "  Here  is  the  paper  you  were  lookiug  for ; "  then 
he  turned  again  to  Natalie  and  added,  "  Try  to  be  near 
the  terrace  at  about  ten  o'clock,  in  the  lilac  arbor.  I  will 
await  you." 

Pigasoff  was  the  hero  of  the  evening.  Roudine  had 
abandoned  the  field.  He  made  Daria  Michaelovna  laugh 
a  great  deal  ;  in  the  first  place  he  told  her  about  one  of  his 
neighbors  who  had  grown  so  effeminate  by  being  tied  for 
thirty  years  to  his  wife's  apron-string,  that  one  day,  when 
stepping  over  a  puddle,  he,  Pigasoff,  had  seen  him  put  his 
hands  behind  him  and  lift  up  his  coat-tails  as  women  do  their 
skirts.  After  that  he  fell  upon  another  man  who  had  been 
first  a  freemason,  then  a  misanthrope,  and  at  last  was  try- 
ing to  become  a  banker. 

But  Daria  was  especially  amused  when  Pigasoff  began 
to  talk  about  love,  and  to  assure  her  that  women  had 
sighed  for  him,  and  an  ardent  German  woman  had  called 
him  "  her  delicious  little  Af ricanus."  Daria  laughed,  yet 


152  Dimitri  Ron  dine. 

Pigasoff  was  telling  the  truth ;  he  had  really  a  right  to  boast 
of  his  successes.  He  declared  that  there  was  nothing 
easier  than  to  make  any  woman  you  pleased  fall  in  love 
with  you ;  one  only  needed  to  tell  her  ten  days  in  succession 
that  paradise  was  on  her  lips,  bliss  in  her  eyes,  and  that 
other  women  were  ugly  creatures  in  comparison  with  her, 
and  on  the  eleventh  day  she  would  say  to  herself  that  para- 
dise was  on  her  lips,  bliss  in  her  eyes,  and  she  would  fall 
in  love  with  the  man  who  had  detected  such  charming 
traits  in  her.  In  this  world  anything  may  happen ;  per- 
haps Pigasoff  was  right.  Who  knows  ? 

At  half  past  nine  Roudine  was  in  the  arbor.  The  stars 
were  just  appearing  in  the  pale,  distant  depths  of  the  sky ; 
the  glow  of  the  sunset  still  lingered  in  the  west,  —  on  that 
side  the  horizon  was  still  clearly  marked.  The  half-moon 
gleamed  like  gold  against  the  dark  interlacing  branches  of 
the  birches.  The  other  trees  stood  like  vast  giants ;  the  sky, 
visible  through  the  net-work  of  their  leaves,  glistened  like 
myriads  of  eyes,  or  else  they  melted  together  in  a  sombre 
mass.  Not  a  leaf  was  moving ;  the  long  branches  of  lilac 


Dimitri  Roudine.  153 

and  the  acacias  stretched  forth  into  the  fragrant  air  as  if 
they  were  listening  to  some  unheard  voice.  The  house 
stood  dark,  the  long,  lit-up  windows  shone  like  red  spots 
against  the  dark  background.  The  evening  was  calm  and 
silent ;  it  seemed  as  if  a  restrained,  passionate  sigh  were 
breathing  mysteriously  in  the  stillness. 

Roudine  stood  with  folded  arms,  listening  with  the 
utmost  eagerness.  His  heart  was  beating  violently,  and 
he  involuntarily  held  his  breath.  At  last  he  thought 
he  heard  light,  hasty  steps  —  and  Natalie  entered  the 
arbor. 

Roudine  hastened  towards  her,  and  raised  her  hands. 
They  were  cold  as  ice. 

"  Natalie  Alexievna  1 "  he  said  with  emotion,  "  I  wanted 

to  see  you I  could  not  wait  till  to-morrow.    I  must 

tell  you  what  I  myself  did  not  suspect,  did  not  imagine 
before  this  morning.  I  love  you !  " 

Natalie's  hands  trembled  gently  within  his  own. 

"  1  love  you !  "  he  repeated ;  "  I  don't  know  how  I  could 
have  been  blind  so  long  ....  that  I  could  not  have  sus- 


154  Dimitri  Roitdine. 

pected  for  so  long  that  I  loved  you  ....  and  you  ?    Nat- 
alie ....  answer  me  —  and  you  ?  " 

Natalie  could  hardly  breathe. 

"  You  see  I  caine  here,"  she  said  at  last. 

"  Tell  me,  do  you  love  me  ?  " 

"  I  think  ....  yes  "  .  .  .  .  she  whispered. 

Roudine  pressed  her  hands  more  warmly  and  tried  to 
draw  her  towards  him. 

"  Leave  me  —  I  am  afraid  —  I  think  some  one  is  listen 

ing  to  us For  God's  sake,  be  prudent.     Volinzoff 

suspects  something." 

"  He  may.  You  noticed  I  did  not  answer  him  to-day. 
....  Ah,  Natalie,  how  happy  I  am !  Now  nothing  can 
separate  us  1  " 

Natalie  raised  her  eyes  till  they  met  his. 

"  Leave  me,"  she  murmured,  "  it  is  time  for  me  to  go 
back." 

"  One  moment." 

"  No,  leave,  leave  me  "  .... 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  me  ?  " 


Dimitri  Roudine.  155 

"  No  ;  but  I  ought  not  to  stay." 

"  Tell  me  again,  just  once  "  .  .  .  • 

"  You  say  you  are  happy  ?  "  asked  Natalie; 

"  Yes,  I  am  the  happiest  man  in  the  world.  Can  you 
doubt  it?" 

Natalie  had  raised  her  head.  Her  pale  face,  so  young, 
so  noble,  so  agitated,  was  fair  to  see  in  the  dim  light  which 
streamed  from  the  pale  sky  into  the  mysterious  gloom  of 
the  arbor. 

"  Hear  me,  then,"  she  said,  "  I  will  be  your  wife."        ^r 

«  Oh,  heaven  !  "  cried  Roudine. 

But  Natalie  had  already  fled.  Roudine  stood  a  moment, 
and  then  slowly  left  the  arbor.  The  moon  shone  full  upon 
his  face  ;  a  smile  was  on  his  lips. 

"  I  am  happy,"  he  murmured  to  himself.  "  Yes,  I  am 
happy,"  he  repeated,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  convince  him* 
self  of  it.  ^ 

He  straightened  himself,  tossed  back  his  hair,  and  walked 
on  swinging  his  arms  joyfully. 

But  meanwhile  the  branches  in  the  lilac  bower  were 


156  Dimitri  Rondine. 

pushed  apart,  and  Pandalewski  appeared.  He  looked 
around  cautiously,  shook  his  head,  pressed  his  lips  together 
and  said  meaningly,  "  Oh  ho !  so  that's  the  way  the  matters 
stand  I  I  must  tell  Daria."  And  he  disappeared. 


IX. 


VOLINZOFF  reached  home  so  gloomy  and  dejectedj  he 
gave  such  short  answers  to  his  sister,  and  locked  himself  up 
so  speedily  in  his  room,  that  she  determined  to  send  at  once 
a  messenger  after  Leschnieff.  In  all  embarrassing  matters 
she  was  accustomed  to  apply  to  him.  Leschnieff  sent  back 
word  that  he  would  come  the  next  day. 

On  the  following  morning  Volinzoff  was  not  in  better 
spirits  than  the  evening  before.  After  breakfast  he 
thought  of  going  out  to  superintend  the  work  which  was 
going  on,  but  he  remained  at  home,  stretched  upon  a  sofa, 
and,  what  was  remarkable,  holding  a  book  in  his  hand. 
Volinzoff  took  a  very  slight  interest  in  literature;  for 
poetry  especially  he  had  great  distaste.  "As  incom- 
prehensible as  a  poem,"  he  used  to  say,  and  he  would 


158  Dimitri  Roudine. 

confirm   his   remark    by   quoting    these   lines    from    Ai- 

bulat :  — 

"  Even  to  the  end  of  my  sad  days, 
Neither  experience  nor  reason 
Shall  tear  from  my  hands 
The  bleeding  forget-me-nots  of  life." 

Alexandra  Paulovna  looked  anxiously  at  her  brother, 
but  she  did  not  annoy  him  with  questions.  A  carriage 
drove  up  to  the  house.  "  Ah  1  thank  Heaven,"  she  thought, 
"  there  is  Leschnieff."  The  servant  entered  and  announced 
Roudine. 

Volinzoff  threw  his  book  on  the  floor,  and  raised  his 
head. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Roudine  —  Dimitri  Nicolaitch,"  repeated  the  servant. 

Volinzoff  arose. 

"  Ask  him  in ;  and  you,  sister,  leave  us  alone,"  he  added, 
turning  to  Alexandra. 

"  But  why  ?  "  she  objected. 

"  I  have  my  reasons,"  he  answered  briefly ;  "  please  go." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  159 

Roudine  entered.  Volinzoff  greeted  him  coldly,  stand- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  not  holding  out  his 
hand. 

"  Confess  that  you  did  not  expect  to  see  me,"  said  Rou- 
dine, laying  his  hat  on  the  window-seat.  He  was  by  no 
means  at  ease,  but  he  tried  to  conceal  his  embarrass- 
ment. 

"  I  certainly  did  not  expect  to  see  you,"  answered  Volin- 
zoff. "  After  what  happened  yesterday,  I  expected  rather 
to  see  some  one  with  a  message  from  you." 

<;  I  understand  you,"  said  Roudine,  sitting  down,  "  and 
I  am  very  grateful  for  your  frankness.  It  is  much  better 
so.  I  came  myself  to  you,  as  to  a  man  of  honor  "  .  .  .  . 

"  Can't  we  dispense  with  compliments  ?  "  interrupted 
Volinzoff. 

"  I  want  to  explain  to  you  why  I  have  come." 

"  We  are  acquaintances  ;  why  shouldn't  you  come  ?  Be- 
sides, it  is  not  the  first  time  that  you  have  honored  me  with 
a  call." 

"  I  have  come  to  you  as  one  man  of  honor  to  another  mar 


160  Dimitri  Ron  dine. 

of  honor,"  repeated  Roudine.  "  I  now  wish  to  submit  to 
your  judgment  ....  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  you  "  . . . . 

"  Come,  what  is  it  you  have  to  say  ?  "  asked  Volinzoff, 
still  standing  in  the  same  position,  casting  angry  glances 
at  Roudine,  and  from  time  to  time  twirling  his  mustache. 

"  Excuse  me  ....  I  came  to  explain  myself,  but  I  can't 
do  it  in  a  couple  of  words." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  it  concerns  a  third  person." 

"  A  third  person  !  and  whom  ?  " 

"  Sergius  Paulitch,  you  understand  me." 

"  Dimitri  ISTicolaitch,  I  do  not  in  the  least  understand 
you." 

"  You  want "  .  .  .  . 

"  I  want  you  to  speak  without  beating  about  the  bush," 
interrupted  Volinzoff. 

He  was  growing  very  angry.     Roudine  frowned. 

"  Very  well  ....  we  are  alone I  have  to  tell 

you  —  probably  you  have  already  guessed  "  (  Volinzofl 
shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently)  —  "  J  have  tc  tell  you 


Dimitri  Roudine.  161 

that  I  love  Natalie  Alexievna,  and  that  I  have  reason  to 
suppose  that  she  loves  me." 

Volinzoff  grew  pale,  and  made  no  answer;  ho  turned 
his  face  away,  and  walked  towards  the  window. 

"  You  understand,  Sergius  Paulitch,"  continued  Roudine, 
"  that  if  I  were  not  convinced  "  .  .  .  . 

"  Yes,  exactly,"  interrupted  Volinzoff  quickly,  "  I  don't 
doubt  at  all  ....  Well !  so  much  the  better  for  you  I 
Only  I  can't  help  wondering  what  the  devil  induced  you 
to  come  to  me  with  this  bit  of  news.  ....  What  busi- 
ness is  it  of  mine,  whom  you  love  or  who  loves  you  ?  I 
really  can't  understand  "  .  .  .  . 

Volinzoff  continued  to  gaze  out  of  the  window.  His 
voice  was  hollow. 

Roudine  arose. 

"  Sergius  Paulitch,  I  will  tell  you  why  I  decided  to  call 
on  you  in  person,  and  why  I  did  not  think  it  right  to  con- 
ceal our  ....  our  mutual  positions.  I  have  much  respect 
for  you  —  that's  why  I  came ;  I  did  not  want  —  neither  of 

us  wanted  to  play  a  part  in  your  presence.     I  knew  your 
11 


1 62  Dimitri  Roudine. 

feelings  towards  Natalie Believe  me,  I  know  my 

own  value ;  I  know  how  unworthy  I  am  to  replace  you  in 
her  heart,  but  since  fate  has  decided  in  this  way,  is  it  not 
better  to  act  frankly  and  loyally  ?  Is  it  not  better  to  avoid 
misunderstandings  and  such  scenes  as  took  place  at  din- 
ner yesterday  ?  Confess  it  yourself,  Sergius  Paulitch." 

Volinzoff  folded  his  arms  as  if  he  found  it  hard  to  con- 
trol himself. 

"  Sergius  Paulitch,"  continued  Roudine,  "  I  feel  that  I 
have  offended  you  ....  but  don't  misunderstand  me. 
....  You  must  see  that  we  had  no  other  way  than  this 
to  express  to  you  our  esteem,  to  show  that  we  are  able  to 
appreciate  the  noble  candor  of  your  nature.  With  any  one 
else  this  frankness,  this  perfect  frankness,  would  be  out  of 
place  ;  but  towards  you  it  is  our  duty.  It  is  a  pleasure  for 
us  to  think  that  our  secret  is  in  your  hands."  .... 

Volinzoff  burst  into  a  forced  laugh. 

"  Many  thanks  for  your  confidence,"  he  cried  ;  "but  yau 
will  please  observe  that  although  I  neither  desired  to  know 
vour  secret  nor  to  disclose  mine  to  you,  you  treat  it  as  your 


Dimitri  Ron  dine.  163 

owp  property.  But  allow  me  ;  you  speak  in  the  name  of 
some  one  else.  Am  I  to  suppose  that  Natalie  Alexievna 
has  any  knowledge  of  your  visit  and  its  intention  ?  " 

At  these  last  words  Roudine  grew  a  little  embarrassed. 

"  No ;  I  did  not  tell  Natalie  what  I  was  going  to  do,  but 
I  know  that  she  shares  my  views." 

"  That  is  all  very  fine,"  answered  Volinzoff,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  during  which  he  beat  with  his  fingers  on  the 
window  pane,  "but  I  must  say  I  should  much  prefer  if 
you  had  ....  had  a  less  favorable  opinion  of  me.  To 
tell  the  truth,  your  good  opinion  is  not  worth  a  farthing. 
Come,  what  do  you  want  of  me  now  ?  " 

"  I  want  nothing  ....  or  rather,  I  do  want  something. 
I  don't  want  you  to  consider  me  a  sly,  crafty  man  ;  I  want 

you  to  know  me I  hope  now  that  you  will  have  no 

doubt  of   my  sincerity I  hope,    Sergius   Paulitch, 

that  we  may  part  as  friends  ....  that  you  will  offer  me 
your  hand  as  heretofore." 

And  Roudine  advanced  towards  Volinzoff. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  answered  Volinzoff,  turning  round 


164  Dimitri  Ron  dine. 

and  retreating  a  step.  "  I  am  ready  to  put  implicit  faith 
in  your  intentions  ;  all  that  is  very  fine,  very  grand  ;  but 
we  are  plain  people,  we  are  unable  to  follow  the  flights  of 

such  exalted  spirits  as  your  own What  seems  to 

you  sincere  seems  to  us  impudent What  you  con- 
sider plain  and  clear,  we  consider  confused  and  obscure. 
....  You  brag  of  things  we  keep  secret ;  how  can  we 
understand  one  another  ?  Excuse  me,  I  can  neither  count 
you  among  my  friends,  nor  offer  you  my  hand Per- 
haps my  conduct  is  petty,  but  I'm  a  petty  fellow." 

Roudine  took  his  hat. 

"  Sergius  Paulitch,  good-by !  "  he  said  sadly.  •  "  My 
expectations  have  been  deceived.  In  fact,  my  visit  was  a 
singular  one,  but  I  hoped  that  you "  .  .  .  .  Volinzoff 

made  an  impatient  gesture "  Excuse  me,  I'll  not 

speak  of  that.  When  I  think  of  it,  I  see  that  you  are 
really  right,  that  you  could  not  act  otherwise.  Farewell, 
and  at  least  allow  me  once  more  to  assure  you  of  the  sin- 
cerity of  my  intentions I  »m  convinced  you  will 

respect  our  secret."  .... 


Dimitri  Roudine.  165 

"  That  is  too  much  ! "  burst  out  Yolinzoff,  trembling 
with  passion.  "I  did  not  thrust  myself  into  your  con- 
fidence ;  and  hence  you  have  no  right  to  count  upon  my 
silence." 

Roudine  was  about  to  answer,  but  he  merely  opened  his 
arms,  bowed,  and  left  the  room ;  Volinzoff  flung  himself 
on  the  sofa  and  turned  his  face  to  the  wall. 

"  Can  I  come  in  ?  "  said  Alexandra  at  the  door. 

Volinzoff  did  not  answer  at  once,  and  passed  his  hand 
quickly  over  his  face. 

"  No,  Sacha,"  he  said  with  a  somewhat  broken  voice  ; 
"  wait  a  few  moments." 

"  Michael  Michaelovitch  has  come,"  she  said  ;  "  do  you 
want  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered ;  "  ask  him  to  come  in." 

Leschnieff  entered. 

"  Well,  what  ails  you  ?  are  you  sick  ?  "  he  asked,  sitting 
down  in  a  chair  near  the  sofa. 

Volinzoff  raised  himself  slowly  and  rested  his  head  upon 
his  arm.  He  gazed  for  a  long  time  into  his  friend's  face, 


1 66  Dimitri  Rottdine. 

and  then  he  repeated  to  him  word  for  word  his  whole  con- 
versation with  Roudine.  Never  before  had  he  made  any 
mention  to  Leschnieff  of  his  feelings  towards  Natalie, 
although  he  might  have  conjectured  that  they  were  no 
secret  to  him. 

"  Do  you  know,  you  really  astonish  me  ?  "  said  Lesch- 
nieff,  when  Yolinzoff  had  finished.  "  I  was  prepared  for  a 
great  many  singular  things  on  his  part,  but  this  is  a  little 
too  much But  I  recognize  him  in  this  too." 

"  Just  consider,"  said  Volinzoff,  "  it  is  nothing  but  a  bit 
of  insolence.  I  came  very  near  throwing  him  out  of  the 
window.  Does  he  want  to  boast  before  me,  or  is  he  afraid  ? 
And  for  what  reason  ?  How  can  one  call  on  a  man  "  .  .  .  . 

Volinzoff  buried  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  was  silent. 

"  No,  my  friend,  you  are  wrong,"  answered  Leschnieff, 
quietly.  "  You  won't  believe  me,  but  yet  I  am  sure  he  did 

it  with  a  good  intention.  Yes,  really Do  you  see, 

it  has  a  certain  streak  of  nobility  and  frankness,  and  gives 
him  an  opportunity  to  give  free  course  to  his  eloquence. 
He  needs  that ;  without  it  he  couldn't  live Ah,  his 


Dimitri  Rotidine.  i6y 

tongue,  his  flow  of  words  ....  that's  his  enemy  .... 
but  it  has  done  him  a  good  turn,  too." 

"  You  can't  imagine  with  what  a  solemn  air  he  came  in 
and  began  to  repeat  his  speech  !  " 

"  Oh,  that's  his  way.  If  he  buttons  his  coat,  he  does  it 
as  if  he  were  discharging  a  holy  duty.  I  should  like  to 
set  him  on  a  desert  island  and  watch  him  from  some 
corner,  doing  as  he  pleased.  And  he  presumes  to  talk 
about  simplicity !  " 

"  But  tell  me,  for  Heaven's  sake,  what  is  the  meaning  of 
his  conduct  ?  Is  it  philosophy  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  say  ?  In  one  way  —  you  are  right  —  it  is 
philosophy  ;  in  another  it  is  not,  by  any  means.  It  is  not 
fair  to  set  every  folly  to  the  score  of  philosophy." 

Volinzoff  glanced  at  him. 

"  But  if  he  was  lying,  what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  No,  my  friend,  he  was  not  lying.  But  enough  about 
him.  We'll  light  our  pipes,  and  ask  Alexandra  Paulovna 

in When  she's  present,  it's  easier  to  talk  and  easier 

to  remain  silent.  She  will  give  us  some  tea." 


1 68  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Yolinzoff ;  "  Sacha,  comi  in." 

Alexandra  Paulovna  entered.  He  took  her  hand  and 
raised  it  tenderly  to  his  lips. 

Roudine  reached  home  in  a  very  unquiet  state  of  mind. 
He  reproached  himself  bitterly,  and  accused  himself  for  his 
unpardonable  haste  and  childishness.  There  is  much  truth 
in  the  saying  thnt  there  is  no  load  heavier  than  the  feeling 
of  having  committed  an  act  of  folly. 

Roudine  was  eaten  by  remorse. 

"It  was  the  devil  himself,"  he  muttered  between  his 
clenched  teeth,  "  who  gave  me  the  idea  of  going  to  see  the 
man !  A  good  idea  that  was !  It  only  brought  down  his 
insolence  on  my  head  !  " 

Something  unusual  was  taking  place  at  Daria's  house. 
She  herself  did  not  appear  all  morning,  and  did  not  come 
down-stairs  to  dinner.  Pandalewski,  the  only  person  she 
saw,  declared  she  was  suffering  from  a  severe  headache. 
Roudine  had  scarcely  seen  Natalie,  who  remained  in  her 

room  with  Miss  Boncourt When  she  came  into  the 

dining-room,  she  looked  at  him  so  sadly  that  his  heart  was 


Dimitri  Roudine.  169 

deeply  pained.  Her  face  had  altered,  as  if  some  misfortune 
had  fallen  on  her  since  the  previous  evening.  A  vague 
uneasiness,  like  a  gloomy  foreboding,  began,  to  affect 
Roudine.  In  order  to  distract  himself  he  turned  to  Bassis- 
toff.  In  talking  with  him  for  some  time  he  found  him  an 
ardent,  enthusiastic,  confident  youth,  full  of  hope  and  in- 
experience. Towards  evening  Daria  came  into  the  parlor. 
She  was  very  amiable  to  Roudine,  though  a  trifle  reserved. 
At  times  she  would  smile,  then  she  would  frown  and  utter 
some  cutting  allusions.  She  was  the  thorough  woman  of 
the  world  once  more.  For  some  days  she  had  treated 
Roudine  with  a  certain  coldness. 

"  Who  can  solve  the  riddle  ?  "  he  thought,  as  he  looked 
askance  at  her  head,  which  was  tossed  back. 

He  did  not  have  to  wait  long  for  a  solution.  Towards 
midnight,  as  he  was  going  through  a  dark  passage  way 
to  his  room,  suddenly  some  one  slipped  a  note  into  his 
hand.  He  looked  around  and  saw  a  young  girl  running 
away,  whom  he  recognized  as  Natalie's  maid.  He  went 
into  his  room,  dismissed  his  servant,  opened  the  note,  and 


170  Dimitri  Rotidine. 

read  the  following  lines,  which  weie  in  Natalie's  hand 
writing : 

"  Come  to-morrow  morning  at  seven  o'clock,  no  later, 
to  the  lake  Advioukine  near  the  oak-grove.  I  can't  set 
any  other  hour.  We  shall  meet  for  the  last  time,  and 
all  is  over-  unless  ....  Come.  A  decision  must  be 
made. 

"  P.  S.  If  I  don't  come,  we  shall  never  meet  again.  In 
that  case  I  shall  let  you  ktfow." 

Roudine  grew  thoughtful ;  he  turned  the  note  between 
his  fingers,  placed  it  beneath  his  pillow,  undressed,  and 
went  to  bed  ;  but  he  could  not  find  the  repose  he  sought. 
He  slept  lightly,  and  tf  as  awake  before  five  o'clock. 


FOR  a  long  time  there  had  existed  only  slight  traces  of 
this  lake  of  Advioukine,  near  which  Natalie  had  asked 
Roudine  to  meet  her.  Thirty  years  before,  the  dike  had 
broken  and  let  the  water  escape.  Only  the  uniformly  level 
bottom  of  the  ravine,  once  covered  with  a  thick  slime,  and 
the  remains  of  the  dam,  recalled  the  existence  of  a  lake. 
Formerly  a  mansion-house  stood  close  by.  Of  the  dense 
grove  of  trees  which  had  surrounded  the  house,  now  only 
two  enormous  pines  remained ;  through  their  thinly-clad 
branches  the  winds  murmured  unceasingly. 

The  story  ran  that  a  terrible  crime  had  been  committed 
at  the  foot  of  these  trees ;  some  even  said  that  neither  of 
them  would  fall  without  killing  some  one.  Formerly  a 
third  had  stood  there,  which  had.  been  blown  over  by  a 


172  Dimitri  Roudine. 

gale,  and  in  its  fall  had  killed  a  little  girl.     All  the  neigh 

i 
borhood  of  the  lake  had  the  name  of  being  haunted  ;  drear, 

desolate,  barren,  and  gloomy  even  at  midday,  it  was  made 
only  drearier  and  gloomier  by  the  proximity  of  a  grove  of 
long  dead  and  withered  oaks.  Above  the  undergrowth 
arose  at  rare  intervals  huge,  gray  trunks,  like  spectres.  It 
made  one  shudder  to  look  at  them ;  they  were  like  wicked 
gray-beards  who  had  met  to  devise  some  evil  plan.  A  nar- 
row, unused  path  led  along  the  side  of  the  ravine.  No  one 
passed  by  that  way  unless  compelled  to  ;  hence  Natalie  had 
purposely  chosen  this  spot,  which  was  about  half  a  verst 
distant  from  Daria  Michaelovna's  house. 

The  sun  had  long  since  risen  when  Roudine  reached  the 
lake ;  but  the  morning  was  not  bright.  Thick,  gray  clouds 
covered  the  whole  sky ;  the  wind  was  tossing  them  in  every 
direction.  Roudine  began  to  walk  to  and  fro  through  the 
thistles  and  nettles  which  covered  the  dike.  He  was  by 
no  means  calm.  These  mysterious  meetings,  these  new 
emotions,  agitated  him  very  much,  especially  since  the  note 
he  had  received  the  evening  before.  He  felt  that  the 


Dimitri  Roudine.  1/3 

crisis  was  approaching,  and  in  his  heart  he  was  very  much 
disturbed,  although  no  one  would  have  imagined  it  who 
might  have  seen  him  gazing  around  him,  with  his  armr 
firmly  folded.  It  was  not  without  truth  that  Pigasoff  had 
once  said,  speaking  of  Roudine,  that  he  was  like  those  Chi- 
nese toys  which  always  stood  with  the  head  uppermost. 
But  when  a  man  is  controlled  by  his  head  alone,  it  is  hard 
for  him,  however  intelligent  he  may  be,  to  analyze  certain  1 
feelings,  and  to  understand  thoroughly  what  is  going  on  in  ' 

his  heart Roudine,  the  intelligent,  acute  Roudine, 

could  not  say  with  certainty  whether  or  not  he  loved 
Natalie,  whether  he  was  suffering,  or  whether  he  would 
suffer  if  he  should  be  obliged  to  part  from  her.  "Why 
then,  without  playing  the  part  of  a  Lovelace  —  for  so 
much  justice  must  be  done  him  —  had  he  allowed  him- 
self to  turn  this  poor  girl's  head?  Why  did  he  await 
her  with  a  mysterious  trembling  ?  To  this  there  is 
only  one  answer:  those  who  are  the  most  void  of  pas- 
sion are  the  readiest  to  let  themselves  be  carried  away. 
He  was  walking  up  and  down  upon  the  dike,  whi.o 


174  Dimitri  Roudine. 

Natalie  was  hastening  across  the  fields,  through  the  wet 
grass,  to  meet  him. 

"  Miss  Natalie,  you  will  wet  your  feet,"  cried  Macha,  her 
maid,  hardly  able  to  keep  up  with  her. 

Natalie  paid  no  attention,  and  ran  without  looking  be- 
hind her. 

"  Oh,  if  only  nobody  saw  us  ! "  said  Macha  repeatedly. 
"  It's  strange  that  no  one  heard  us  coming  out  of  the  house. 
If  Miss  Boncourt  doesn't  wake  up.  Fortunately  it's  not  very 

far There  he  is  waiting,"   she  added,  as  she  saw 

Roudine's  tall  figure,  standing  picturesquely  on  the  dike. 
"  But  he  ought  not  to  stand  there,  where  he  can  be  seen. 
....  He  ought  to  go  into  the  ravine." 

Natalie  stopped. 

"  Wait  here  by  the  pines,  Macha,"  she  said,  advancing 
towards  the  lake. 

Roudine  came  forward  to  meet  her,  and  stopped  in  amaze- 
ment.  He  had  never  seen  such  an  expression  on  her  face. 
Her  eyebrows  were  drawn  together,  her  lips  were  tightly 
closed,  her  eyes  had  a  severe,  almost  a  harsh  Jook. 


Dimitri  Rondine.  175 

"  Dimitri  Nicolaitch,"  she  began,  "  we  have  no  time  to 
lose.  I  have  come  for  five  minutes ;  my  mother  knows 
everything.  Mr.  Pandalewski  was  listening  to  us  day 
before  yesterday,  and  he  told  her  about  our  meeting. 
He  has  always  been  mamma's  spy.  Yesterday  she  sent 
for  me." 

1~"  Heavens,  that  is  terrible  1 "  cried  Roudine.      "  What 
did  she  say  ?  " 

"  She  was  not  angry,  she  did  not  scold  me ;  she  only 
blamed  me  for  my  thoughtlessness." 

"  Was  that  all  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  then  she  told  me  she  would  rather  I  should  be 
dead  than  your  wife." 

"  Did  she  really  say  that  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;rand  then  she  added  that  you  did  not  care  to 
marry  me,  that  you  had  paid  me  attention  only  from  lack 
of  anything  better  to  do,  and  that  she  had  not  expected 
any  such  abuse  of  her  confidence  on  your  part ;  and  that, 
besides,  she  was  herself  to  blame  for  having  allowed  us  to 
be  so  much  together She  said  she  had  had  perfect 


176  Dimitri  Roudine. 

confidence  in  my  good  sense,  and  that  she  was  very  much 
astonished  at  my  thoughtless  conduct I  don't  remem- 
ber everything  she  said." 

Natalie  uttered  all  this  in  a  uniform,  almost  inaudible 
voice. 

"  And  you,  Natalie,  what  did  you  say  ? "  asked  Rou- 
dine. 

"What  did  I  say  ?  "  repeated  Natalie;  "but  in  the  first 
place,  what  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  " 

"  Great  God,"  resumed  Roudine,  "  that  is  cruel !  so  soon ! 
....  such  an  unexpected  blow !  .  .  .  .  and  your  mother 
is  really  angry  ?  " 

"  Yes  ....  yes,  she  won't  hear  of  you." 

"  That  is  terrible  !     There  is  then  no  hope  ?  " 

«  None." 

"  Why  am  I  so  pitilessly  pursued  by  misfortune  !  That 
Pandalewski  is  a  wretch !  .  .  .  .  You  ask  me,  Natalie, 
what  I  mean  to  do  ?  My  head  is  in  a  whirl  ....  I  can't 
collect  my  thoughts  ....  I  can  only  feel  my  misfortunes 
I  am  surprised  that  you  can  be  so  collected." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  177 

«  Do  you  think  I  find  it  easy  ?  "  answered  Natalie. 
Roudine  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  dike.     Natalie 
kept  her  eyes  fastened  upon  him. 

^i 

"  Didn't  your  mother  ask  you  any  questions  ?  "  he  asked 
at  last. 

"  She  asked  me  if  I  loved  you." 

"  Well  ....  and  you  answered  ?  " 

Natalie  was -silent  for  a  moment "I  told  her  the 

truth." 

Roudine  seized  her  hand. 

"  Always,  in  everything,  noble  'and  great.  Oh,  a  girl's 
heart  is  like  pure  gold  !  But  is  it  possible  that  your  mother 
was  so  fixed  in  opposition  to  our  marriage  ?  " 

**  Yes,  firmly.^  I  have  already  told  you,  she  is  convinced 
you  have  no  intention  of  marrying  me." 

"  She  considers  me,  then,  an  impostor !  How  do  I  de- 
serve such  a  suspicion  ?  " 

And  Roudine  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"  Dimitri  Nicola'itch,"  said  Natalie,  "  we  are  wasting  our 

time.     Remember,  I  see  you  for  the  last  time.    I  did  not 
12 


178  Dimitri  Roudine. 

come  here  to  weep,  nor  to  complain  —  you  see  I  am  not 
weeping  —  I  came  to  get  your  advice." 

"  What  advice  can  I  give  you,  Natalie  Alexievna  ?  " 

"  What  advice  ?  You  are  a  man  ;  I  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  have  confidence  in  you  ;  I  shall  believe  in  you  to 
the  last.  Tell  me,  what  are  your  intentions  ?  " 

"  My  intentions  !  your  mother  will  probably  forbid  me 
the  house." 

"  Possibly.  She  told  me  yesterday  she  must  break  off 

her  acquaintance  with  you But  you  don't  answer 

my  question." 

"  What  question  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  we  should  do  now  ?  " 

"  What  should  we  do  ?  "  repeated  Roudine ;  "  we  must 
submit." 

"  Submit !  "  repeated  Natalie,  her  lips  turning  white. 

"  Submit  to  our  fate,"  continued  Roudine.  "  What  else 
can  we  do  ?^~  I  know  very  well  that  resignation  will  be 
bitter,  that  this  blow  is  hard  to  bear ;  but  judge  for  your- 
self,.Natalie,  I  am  poor.  .  ,  ,  .  I  could  work,  it  is  true 


Dimitri  Roudine.  179 

but  even  if  I  were  rich,  could  you  endure  this  violent  sepa- 
ration from  your  family,  the  anger  of  your  mother  ?  .  .  .  . 
No.  Natalie,  that  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  .It  is  clear  we 
are  not  destined  to  live  together,  and  that  the  happiness 
of  which  I  had  dreamed  is  not  foi*  me." 

Natalie  suddenly  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and 
burst  into  tears.  Roudine  went  towards  her. 

"  Natalie,  dear  Natalie  ! "  he  said  with  warmth,  "  do 
not  weep ;  for  God's  sake,  do  not  torture  me ;  calm 
yourself." 

Natalie  raised  her  head. 

"  You  tell  me  to  calm  myself,"  she  began,  and  her  eyes 
glowed  brightly  beneath  her  tears.  "  I  am  not  weeping 

for  the  reason  which  you  suppose That  does  not 

pain  me ;  but  it  does  pain  me  to  find  myself  deceived  in 

you What!  I  come  to  seek  advice,  counsel  from 

you,  and  in  what  a  moment !  and  your  first  word  is  '  Sub- 
mit ! '  Is  that  the  way  you  put  in  practice  your  theories 
of  resignation,  of  sacrifice  ?  " 

Her  voice  failed  her. 


l8o  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  Remember,  Natalie,"  began  Roudine,  embarrassed,  "  I 
do  not  abandon  my  principles  ....  only  "  .  .  .  . 

"  You  asked  me,"  she  began  with  new  force,  "  what  an- 
swer I  gave  my  mother,  when  she  said  she  would  rather 
see  me  dead  than  consent  to  my  marriage  with  you.  I  told 
her  I  would  rather  be  dead  than  be  the  wife  of  any  one  else. 
....  And  you  talk  of  submission  !  She  was  right ;  you 
were  attentive  to  me  only  from  having  nothing  better  to 
do  —  only  to  kill  time  "  .  .  .  . 

"  I  swear  to  you,  Natalie  ....  I  swear  to  you  "  .  .  .  . 
repeated  Roudine. 

But  she  did  not  listen  to  him. 

"  Why  didn't  you  warn  me  at  the  beginning  ?  Why  did 
you  have  to  ....  or  why  didn't  you  foresee  the  obstacles  ? 
I  am  ashamed  to  talk  in  this  way  ....  but  it's  all  over 
now." 

"  You  must  calm  yourself,  Natalie,"  began  Roudine 
again  ;  "  we  must  contrive  some  means  "  .  .  .  . 

"  You  have  so  often  spoken  of  self-sacrifice,"  she  inter- 
rupted ;  "  but  d3  you  know  that  if  you  had  said  to  me  just 


Dimitri  Roudine.  181 

now,  '  I  love  you,  but  I  can't  marry  you ;  I  can't  answer 
for  the  future  ;  give  me  your  hand  and  follow  me,'  —  do  you 
know  I  should  have  followed  you,  that  I  was  ready  for 
everything !  But  from  words  to  deeds  is  farther  than  I 
thought,  and  now  you  are  afraid;  as  you  were  afraid  of 
Volinzoff  the  other  day  at  dinner." 

Roudine's  face  flushed  crimson.  Natalie's  sudden  ex- 
citement had  surprised  him,  but  these  last  words 
wounded  to  the  quick  his  self-love. 

"  You  are  too  excited  now,  Natalie,"  he  began  ;  "  you 
cannot  understand  what  cruel  wrong  you  do  me.  I  hope 
that  Some  day  you  will  do  me  justice ;  you  will  understand 
then  what  it  costs  me  to  renounce  the  happiness  which,  by 
your  own  confession,  would  place  no  obligation  upon  me. 
Your  peace  is  dearer  to  me  than  all  the  world,  and  I  should 
be  a  wretch  if  I  should  decide  to  take  advantage  "  .  .  .  . 

"  Perhaps,"  murmured  Natalie,  "  perhaps  you  are  right. 
I  don't  know  what  I'm  saying.     Up  to  this  meeting  I  be- 
lieved in  you,  I  believed  in  every  one  of  your  words.  .  .  . 
Henceforth,  I  beg  of  you,  weigh  your  words ;  don't  hurl 


1 82  Dimitri  Roudine. 

them  away  so  carelessly.   When  I  said  I  loved  you,  I  knew 
what  my  words  meant ;  I  was  ready  for  everything 

It  only  remains  for  me  to  thank  you  for  the  lesson  you 
• 
have  given  me,  and  to  bid  you  good-by." 

"  Stop,  I  beseech  you,  for  God's  sake,  Natalie.  I  have 
not  deserved  your  contempt ;  that  I  swear  to  you.  Just 
put  yourself  in  my  place.  I  am  responsible  for  you  and 
for  me.  If  I  did  not  love  beyond  all  measure,  what  could 
have  prevented  me  from  proposing  to  run  away  with  you 
at  once  ?  .  .  .  .  Sooner  or  later,  your  mother  would  have 
forgiven  us  ....  and  then  ....  But  before  thinking  of 
my  own  happiness "  .  .  .  . 

He  was  silent.  Natalie's  eyes  were  gazing  on  him  stead- 
ily  He  had  to  stop. 

"  You  try  to  convince  me  that  you  are  an  honest  man, 
Dimitri  Nicola'itch,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  doubt  it.  You  are 
incapable  of  acting  from  calculation  ;  but  do  I  need  any 
proof  of  that  ?  Was  it  for  that  I  came  here  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  anticipate,  Natalie 

"  Ah  !  at  last  you  have  said  it  I     You  didn't  anticipate 


Dimitri  Roudine.  183 

all  this  —  you  didn't  know  me.  But  calm  yourself  ;  you 
don't  love  me,  and  I  don't  thrust  myself  upon  anybody." 

"  I  do  love  you ! "  cried  Roudine. 

Natalie  straightened  herself. 

"  Possibly  ;  but  how  do  you  love  me  ?  I  recall  all  your 
words,  Dimitri  Nicolaitch.  Do  you  remember  saying  to 
me  one  day  that  there  was  no  love  without  perfect  equality 
between  those  who  loved  ?  .  .  .  .  You  are  too  lofty  for 

*•/ 

me,  we  are  not  equals I  am  punished  as  I  deserved. 

Some  worthier  occupation  awaits  you.  I  shall  not  forget 
this  day Farewell !  " 

"  Natalie,  you  are  going  ?  Is  it  possible  that  we  part 
thus  ?  " 

He  held  out  his  hand.  She  stopped.  His  tone  of  en- 
treaty seemed  to  weaken  her  resolution. 

"No,"  she  cried  at  last,  "I  feel  something  is  shattered 

within  me I  came  here  and  spoke  to  you  as  in  a 

delirium ;  I  must  compose  myself.  That  cannot  be  ;  you 
have  said  it  yourself;  that  shall  not  be.  Heavens,  on  my 
way  here,  I  bade  good-by  in  my  thought  to  my  family,  to 


184  Dimitri  Roudine. 

my  past  life,  —  and  then,  whom  did  I  find  here  ?  A  cow- 
ard  How  did  you  know  I  could  not  bear  to  part 

from   my  family  ?     *  Your   mother  won't    consent  .... 
it  is  terrible  ! '     That  is  all  the  answer  you  had  1     Was  it 

you,  was  it  really  you,  Roudine  ?   No,  farewell Ah  I 

if  you  loved  me,  I  should  feel  it  at  this  moment No, 

no ;  good-by  1 "  .... 

She  turned  away  rapidly  and  ran  to  Macha,  who  for 
some  time  had  been  anxious,  and  making  signs  to  bring 
her  away. 

"  It  is  you  who  are  afraid,  and  not  I,"  cried  Roudine,  as 
he  saw  her  run  away. 

But  she  paid  no  attention  to  him,  and  ran  across  the 
fields  to  the  house. 

She  reached  her  room   safely ;  but  she  had  scarcely 
*      crossed  the  threshold  when  her  strength  abandoned  her, 
and  she  sank  fainting  into  Macha's  arms. 

Roudine  lingered  some  time  at  the  dike.  Suddenly  he 
braced  himself  and  stepped  slowly  along  the  path  which 
he  had  taken  an  hour  before.  He  was  extremely  ashamed 


Dimitri  Roudine.  185 

of  himself  ....  and  exceedingly  irritated.  "  What  a 
girl  she  is !  "  he  thought,  .  .  .  .  "  and  only  eighteen  years 

old No,  I  didn't  know  her  ....  an  extraordinary 

girl.  What  a  strong  will  1  ....  She  is  right ;  she  is 
worthy  of  another  love  than  that  which  I  could  feel  for 

her And  did  I  feel  it?  "  he  asked  himself.  "  Don't 

I  love  her  any  more  ?  And  must  it  all  end  thus  ?  How 
piteous,  how  contemptible,  I  was  in  comparison  with  her !  " 

The  rolling  of  a  carriage  caused  Roudine  to  raise  his 
head.  It  was  Leschnieff  coming  in  the  opposite  direction, 
driving  his  customary  trotter.  Roudine  bowed  to  him 
silently ;  then,  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden  thought,  he  turned 
to  one  side  and  walked  rapidly  towards  Dana's  house. 

Leschnieff  let  him  go  on  a  short  way,  following  him  with 
his  eyes,  and  then,  after  a  moment  of  thought,  he  turned 
his  horse  and  drove  to  Volinzoff's. 

He  found  his  friend  asleep.  He  told  the  servant  not  to 
awaken  him,  and  went  on  the  piazza  to  smoke  a  pipe  be- 
fore breakfast 


XI. 


VOLINZOFF  got  up  at  ten  o'clock.  On  hearing  to  hia 
great  surprise  that  Leschnieff  was  seated  on  the  piazza,  he 
sent  word  for  him  to  come  in. 

"What  has  happened?"  he  asked  him.  "You  we/e 
going  home,  I  thought." 

"  True ;  but  I  met  Roudine.  He  was  tramping  alone 
through  the  fields,  with  a  most  agitated  expression  on  his 
face.  I  thought  it  over  for  a  moment  and  then  came  back." 

"  You  came  back  because  you  met  Roudine  ?  " 

"  That  is  to  say  —  to  tell  the  truth  —  I  don't  know  my- 
self why  I  came  back ;  probably  because  I  thought  of  you. 
I  wanted  to  sit  with  you  again.  1  shall  have  time  enough 
to  go  home." 

Volinzoff  smiled  bitterly. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  187 

"  Yes,  one  can't  think  of  Roudine  any  longer  without 

thinking  of  me Bring  us  some  tea  1 "  he  cried  to  a 

servant. 

The  friends  sat  down  to  breakfast.  Leschnieff  talked 
about  farming  and  of  a  new  way  of  lining  barns. 

Suddenly  Volinzoff  sprang  from  his  chair,  hitting  the 
table  so  violently  that  all  the  cups  and  saucers  rattled. 

"  Xo,"  he  cried,  "  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer.  I  shall 
call  this  genius  out ;  either  he  will  kill  me,  or  I  shall  lodge 
a  bullet  in  his  intellectual  brow." 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ? "  said  Leschnieff  coldly. 
"  What  makes  you  cry  out  in  that  way  ?  You  made  me 
drop  my  pipe What  ails  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  can't  hear  his  name  mentioned  without  getting 
into  a  passion  ;  all  my  blood  flies  to  my  head." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  nonsense !  aren't  you  ashamed  of  your- 
self? "  answered  Leschnieff,  picking  up  his  pipe.  "  Don't 
think  of  him  any  more.  Let  him  go  "  — 

"  He  has  insulted  me,"  continued  Volinzoff,  walking  up 
and  down  the  room.  "  Yes,  he  has  insulted  me  grossly. 


1 88  Dimitri  Roudine. 

You  must  acknowledge  it  yourself.  At  first,  I  paid  no 
attention  to  it  myself;  I  was  too  much  surprised,  and,  in 
fact,  who  could  have  expected  it  ?  I  am  going  to  show 
him  I  am  not  to  be  trifled  with.  Cursed  philosopher !  I'll 
shoot  him  like  a  partridge." 

'*  A  good  deal  you'll  get  by  that !  I  won't  speak  of  your 
sister ;  under  the  influence  of  such  passion,  how  could  you 
think  of  her  ?  But  with  regard  to  another  person,  do  you 
expect  to  advance  your  interests  much  by  shooting  the 
'  philosopher,'  as  you  call  him  ?  " 

Volinzoff  flung  himself  into  a  chair. 

"  Then  I  shall  go  away.  I  don't  care  where,  only  away 
from  here !  My  heart  is  so  heavy  that  I  can  find  no  peace 
here." 

"  You  want  to  go  away  ?  .  .  .  .  That  is  another  matter. 
I  agree  with  you  there.  And  do  you  know  what  I  pro- 
pose ?  Let  us  leave  together ;  let  us  go  to  the  Caucasus  01 
only  to  Little-Russia,  and  eat  dumplings.  That  is  a  cap- 
ital idea." 

"  Yes  ;  but  what  shall  I  do  with  ray  sister  ?  " 


Dimitri  Roudiiie.  '  *    180 

^J  >          '4 

^   \  y  .  -4 

"And  why  should  not  Alexandi#  'P^aulovriar  <go  with 
us?  Heavens,  that  would  be  delightful  I- /I',  will  take  ; 
care  of  her.  She  shall  want  for  nothing;  if  she  cares 
for  it,  I'll  see  that  she  has  a  serenade  beneath  her  win- 
dow every  evening;  I'll  perfume  the  postilions  with  Co- 
logne water;  I'll  line  the  road  with  flowers.  As  for  us, 
my  brother,  if  will  be  as  if  we  were  born  again  ;  we  will 
give  ourselves  wholly  up  to  enjoyment,  and  we'll  bring 
such  fat  paunches  back  with  us  that  love  will  have  no 
chance  to  touch  us." 

"  You  are  always  joking,  Michael." 

"  I  am  not  joking  at  all.   That  was  a  brilliant  suggestion 
of  yours." 

"  Don't  let  us  talk  of  it  any  more,"  cried  Volinzoff ;  "  I 
want  to  fight  him."  f 

"  Again  ?    You've  lost  your  wits  to-day." 

A  servant  entered  with  a  letter. 

«  Who  is  it  from  ?  "  asked  Leschnieff. 

"  From  Roudine  —  from  Dimitri  Nicola'itch  Roudine.    It 
was  brought  by  Madame  Lassounski's  servant." 


190  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  From  Roudine  ?  "  repeated  Volinzoff.  "  For  whom  is 
it?" 

"  For  you." 

"  For  me !     Hand  it  here." 

Volinzoff  seized  the  letter,  tore  it  open  and  began  to 
read  it.  Leschnieff  watched  him  closel/.  A  strange, 
almost  joyous  surprise  appeared  on  VolinzofE's  face.  He 
let  his  arms  drop  by  his  side. 

"  What  does  he  say  ?  "  asked  Leschnieff. 

"  Read  it,"  said  Yolinzoff  faintly,  handing  him  the 
letter. 

Leschnieff  began  to  read  it.  This  is  what  Roudine  had 
written :  — 

"  SIR,  —  To-day  I  leave  Daria  Michaelovna's  house,  and 
I  leave  never  to  return.  This  will  probably  surprise  you, 
especially  after  my  visit  of  yesterday.  I  cannot  explain  to 
you  my  motives  for  acting  thus,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  I 
ought  to  give  you  notice  of  my  departure.  You  do  not 
like  me,  and  you  consider  me  a  worthless  man.  I  have  no 
intention  of  defending  myself.  Time  will  do  that.  In  my 


Dimitri  Roudine.  191 

opinion  it  is  unworthy  of  a  man,  and  at  the  same  time  use- 
less for  him  to  try  to  convince  a  prejudiced  person  of  the 
groundlessness  of  his  prejudices.  Whoever  is  willing  to 
understand  me,  will  forgive  me ;  as  for  any  one  who  is 
neither  willing  nor  able  to  understand  me,  his  accusations 
are  to  me  a  matter  of  indifference.  I  have  been  deceived 
in  you.  In  my  eyes  you  will  always  be,  as  heretofore,  a 
noble,  honorable  man.  My  error  was  in  supposing  that 
you  could  raise  yourself  above  the  circle  in  which  you 
have  been  brought  up.  I  was  mistaken.  But  of  what 
importance  is  that?  It  is  neither  the  first  nor  the  last 
time  in  my  experience.  I  repeat  it,  I  am  going  away ;  I 
wish  you  all  possible  happiness.  Confess  that  this  is  a 
thoroughly  disinterested  wish.  I  cannot  refrain  from  hop- 
ing that  you  will  be  happy  henceforth.  Perhaps  time  will 
alter  your  opinion  of  me. 

"  Whether  we  shall  ever  meet  again,  I  do  not  know ;  but 
I  still  remain 

"  Your  sincerely  attached  friend,  D.  ROUDINE. 

"  P.  S.     I  will  send  you  the  two  hundred  rubles  I  owe 


1 92  Dimitri  Roudine. 

you,  as   soon  as  I  reach  my  home  in   the   Government 
of  T .     Please  do  not  mention  this  letter  to  Daria. 

"  P.  P.  S.  A  last,  and  important  request.  Since  I  leave 
at  once,  1  trust  that  you  will  make  no  allusion  to  my  call 
on  you,  in  the  presence  of  Natalie." 

"Well,  what  do  you  say  to  that?"  asked  Volinzoff, 
when  Leschnieff  had  finished  the  letter. 

"  What  can  one  say  ? "  answered  Leschnieff.  "  The 
only  thing  one  can  do  is  to  cry,  '  Allah  !  Allah  1 '  like  a 
Mussulman,  and  put  one's  finger  in  his  mouth  as  a  sign  of 
astonishment.  He  is  going  away  —  very  well.  May  his 
path  be  smooth  before  him !  It's  curious  to  notice  how 
duty  alone  induced  him  to  write  this  letter,  and  it  was 
from  a  feeling  of  duty  that  he  called  upon  you.  .*.  .  . 
These  gentlemen  are  always  finding  some  duty  to  per- 
form, some  debt  to  discharge  at  every  step,"  continued 
Leschnieff,  pointing  with  a  smile  to  the  postscript  of  the 
letter. 

"  What  phrases  he  invents  !  "  cried  Volinzoff.  "  He 
has  been  deceived  in  me ;  he  expected  to  find  me  rise 


Dimitri  Roudine.  193 

superior  to  the  circle  in  which  I  had  been  brought  upu 
....  Heavens!  What  stuff  and  nonsense  1  it's  worse 
than  poetry  I  " 

LeschniefF  did  not  answer ;  in  his  eyes  alone  was  a  smile 
perceptible. 

Volinzoff  arose. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  Daria  Michaelovna's,"  he  said,  "  and 
see  what  it  all  means." 

"  Don't  hurry,  brother ;  give  him  time  to  get  off.  Why 
should  you  run  across  him  again  ?  He's  going,  you  know. 
What  more  do  you  want  ?  You'd  better  go  to  bed  and  get 
some  sleep ;  I  am  sure  you  spent  the  whole  night  turning 
and  tossing  in  bed  from  one  side  to  the  other.  Now  things 
are  looking  better."  .... 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  think  so.  But  go  and  get  some  sleep.  I  will  go 
and  sit  with  your  sister." 

"  I  don  t  want  to  sleep.  Why  should  I  ?  ....  I  would 
rather  go  out  to  the  fields,"  added  Volinzo  J,  smoothing 

his  coat. 

13 


194  Dimitri  Rotidine. 

"  Very  well,  my  friend,  go  out  to  the  fields  ! " 

And  Leschnieff  went  to  the  other  half  of  the  house,  to 
Alexandra  Paulovna.  He  found  her  in  her  drawing-room. 
She  greeted  him  kindly ;  she  was  always  glad  to  see  him, 
but  to-day  her  face  bore  a  sad  expression.  She  was  dis- 
turbed by  Roudine's  visit  of  the  day  before. 

"  Do  you  come  from  my  brother  ?  "  she  asked  Lesch- 
nieff.  "  How  is  he  to-day  ?  " 

"  He  is  very  well ;  he  has  gone  out  to  the  fields.' 

Alexandra  was  silent. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  began,'examining  carefully  the  border 
of  her  handkerchief ;  "  don't  you  know  why  "  .  .  .  . 

"Why  Roudine  came?"  interrupted  Leschnieff.  "I 
know  why ;  he  came  to  bid  good-by." 

Alexandra  raised  her  head. 

«  What !    To  bid  good-by !  " 

« Yes ;  haven't  you  heard  ?  He  is  going  away  from 
Daria's." 

"Going  away?" 

"  Forever  —  at  least  that's  what  he  says." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  195 

"  But  what  are  we  to  think  of  that  after  all?  "  .... 

"  Ah,  that  is  another  question.  We  can't  understand  it, 
,but  that's  the  case.  Something  must  have  happened. 
He  has  probably  stretched  the  cord  too  far,  and  it's 
broken." 

"  Michael !  "  answered  Alexandra.  "  I  don't  understand 
you  at  all ;  it  seems  to  me  you  are  making  fun  of  me." 

"  I  swear  I  am  not I  tell  you  he's  going  away, 

and  he  sends  his  friends  word  of  this  by  letter.  Regarded 
in  a  certain  way,  it  is,  if  you  choose,  a  fortunate  thing ; 
but  his  departure  nevertheless  prevents  the  carrying  out 
of  one  of  the  most  remarkable  undertakings,  which  your 
brother  and  I  were  just  discussing." 

"  What  was  this  undertaking?  " 

"  You  shall  hear.  I  proposed  to  your  brother  a  journey 
for  the  sake  of  distraction,  and  to  take  you  along.  I  said 
I  should  take  it  upon  myself  to  care  for  you." 

"  That  is  delightful  1  "  cried  Alexandra.  "  I  see  what 
sort  of  care  you  would  take  of  me.  You  would  let  me 
starve  to  death." 


196  Dimitri  Roitdine. 

"  You  say  that,  Alexandra  Paulovna,  because  you  don't 
know  me.  You  think  I  am  a  stock,  a  perfect  stock,  a  sort 
of  wooden  man ;  but  if  you  knew  that  I  could  melt  like 
sugar  and  pass  whole  days  on  my  knees  1 " 

"  I  must  say  I  should  like  to  see  that." 

Leschnieff  arose  suddenly.  "  Well,  marry  me,  Alexan- 
dra, and  you  will  see  it." 

Alexandra  blushed  crimson. 

"  What  did  you  say,  Michael  Michaelovitch  ?  "  she  said 
with  embarrassment. 

"  I  said,"  answered  Leschnieff,  "  what  has  for  a  long 
time  been  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue.  I  have  now  said  it,  and 
you  can  act  on  it  as  you  please.  In  order  not  to  embar- 
rass you,  I  will  go  away.  Yes,  I'm  going  ....  if  you 
consent  to  be  my  wife  ....  if  that  is  not  disagreeable  to 
you,  send  some  one  after  me.  I'll  understand." 

Alexandra  wanted  to  detain  Leschnieff,  but  he  went 
quickly  into  the  garden  without  his  hat,  and  leaned  on 
a  little  gate,  letting  his  eyes  wander  in  the  distant  pros- 
pect. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  197 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  a  maid-servant  behind  him, 
"  my  mistress  told  me  to  ask  you  to  come  in." 

Michael  Michaelovitch  turned  around,  took  .hold  of  the 
girl's  head,  much  to  her  astonishment,  and  kissed  her  fore- 
head ;  then  he  entered  the  house. 


XII. 


X  Roudino  reached  home  after  meeting  Leschnieff, 
he  locked  himself  up  in  his  room  and  wrote  two  letters : 

s 

the  first  to  Volinzoff,  which  the  reader  has  already  seen, 
the  other  to  Natalie.  Over  this  second  letter  he  worked 
a  long  time ;  a  great  deal  of  it  he  scratched  out  and  altered 
and  when  he  had  copied  it  on  a  sheet  of  his  best  letter-paper, 
he  folded  it  into  as  small  a  compass  as  possible,  and  put  it 
into  his  pocket.  Having  finished  this  task,  he  began  to 
walk  up  and  down  his  room  with  a  gloomy  expression  on 
his  face ;  then  he  sat  down  in  a  chair  near  the  window, 
resting  his  chin  upon  his  arm,  while  the  rising  tears  quiv- 
ered on  his  eyelids.  Suddenly,  and  as  if  he  had  just 
formed  a  final  resolution,  he  arose,  buttoned  his  coat  up  to 
his  neck,  called  his  servant,  and  bade  him  ask  Daria 


Dimitri  Roudine.  199 

Michaelovna  whether  she  could    see  him.     The  servant 
came  back  saying  she  was  awaiting  him.     Roudine  fol- 
lowed him.     Daria  received  her  guest  in  hep  boudoir,  as 
on  the  day  of  his  first  appearance,  two  months  before.    But 
now  with  this  difference,  that  she  was  not  alone.     Pan-  v 
dalewski,  as  modest,  smug,  and  humble  as  ever,  was  with  f 
her. 

Daria  received  Roudine  graciously,  and  he,  for  his  part, 
greeted  her  with  apparent  composure ;  but  with  the  first 
glance  at  both  of  the  smiling  faces,  any  man  who  knew 
the  world  would  have  easily  detected  behind  their  polite  '. 
and  friendly  manner  genuine  constraint  and  coldness. 
Roudine  knew  that  Daria  was  offended  at  him,  and  she 
suspected  that  he  already  knew  how  she  felt. 

Pandalewski's  report  had  angered  her;  it  had  touched 
her  pride.  Roudine,  the  poverty-stricken,  humble-born, 
unknown  Roudine,  had  had  the  presumption  to  have  a 
secret  interview  with  her  daughter  —  the  daughter  of  Daria 
Michaelovna  Lassounski ! 

;<  Even  granting  he's  a  clever  man,  a  genius,"  she  said, 


2OO  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  what  difference  does  that  make  ?   According  to  that,  any 
one  might  hope  to  become  my  son-in-law." 

"  For  a  lonoj  time  I  could  not  believe  my  eyes,"  an- 
swered Pandalewski.  "  I  could  not  comprehend  that  he 
did  not  understand  either  his  position  or  yours." 

Daria  was  very  angry,  and  Natalie  had  to  suffer 
from  it. 

She  asked  Roudine  to  sit  down.  He  did  so  at  once,  but 
no  longer  like  the  Roudine  of  old  times,  when  he  was 
almost  the  master  of  the  house.  He  did  not  even  sit  down 
like  a  mere  acquaintance  whom  one  is  glad  to  see,  but  like 
a  stranger  who  is  paying  a  call  of  ceremony.  This  was 
merely  the  work  of  a  moment,  but  no  longer  time  is  needed 
to  change  water  into  ice. 

"  I  am  come,  Daria  Michaelovna,"  began  Roudine,  "  to 
thank  you  for  your  hospitality.     I  have  just  received  im- 
portant news  from  my  estate,  and  I  must  leave  to-day." 
Daria  looked  at  Roudine  attentively. 

"  He  has  got  the  start  of  me ;  he  certainly  suspects  some- 
thing," she  thought,  "  and  he  wants  to  dispense  with  anj 


Dimitri  Roudine.  201 

embarrassing  explanation.  So  much  the  better.  Long  live 
the  clever  people  1 " 

«  Indeed?  "  she  said  aloud.  «  That  is  really  very  sad. 
But  if  you  must  ....  1  hope  to  see  you  this  winter  at 
Moscow.  We  shall  be  going  back  soon." 

"  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  be  able  to  get  to  Moscow, 
Daria  Michaelovna ;  but  if  I  find  the  means,  I  shall  con- 
sider it  my  duty  to  call  on  you  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Oh,  ho,  my  friend  1 "  said  Pandalewski  to  himself, 
"  it's  not  very  long  since  you  spoke  like  lord  and  master, 
and  now  you  have  to  express  yourself  in  this  way." 

"  So  the  news  you  have  received  from  your  estate  is  not 
perfectly  satisfactory  ? "  he  asked,  with  his  usual  affec- 
tation. 

"  No,"  answered  Roudine,  dryly. 

"  A  bad  harvest  perhaps  ?  " 

"No  .  .  .  .  something  else Believe  me,  Daria 

Michaelovna,"  continued  Roudine,  "  I  shall  never  forget 
the  time  I  have  spent  in  your  house." 

"  And  for  my  part,  Dimitri  Nicolaitch,  I  shall  always 


2O2  Dimitri  Roudine. 

recall  our  acquaintance  with  pleasure When  do 

you  leave  ?  " 

"  To-day,  after  dinner." 

"  So  soon  ?  .  .  .  .  Well,  I  wish  you  a  pleasant  journey- 
If  your  business  does  not  detain  you  too  long,  perhaps  we 
may  see  you  again  here." 

"  That  is  hardly  possible,"  answered  Roudine,  rising. 
"  Excuse  me,"  he  added,  "  I  can't  at  once  pay  the  amount 
I  owe  you,  but  as  soon  as  I  have  reached  my  estate  "  .  .  .  . 

"  Don't  let  us  speak  of  that,  Dimitri  Nicola'itch,"  Daria 

broke  in,  "  you  would  pain  me But  what  time  is 

it  ?  "  she  asked. 

Pandalewski  drew  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  a  little 
enamelled  watch,  and  carefully  bending  his  rosy  cheek 
over  his  white,  stiff  collar,  he  said,  — 

"  Thirty-three  minutes  past  two." 

"It  is  time  for  me  to  dress,"  said  Daria.  "  Au  revoir, 
Dimitri  Nicola'itch." 

This  whole  conversation  between  Daria  and  Roudine 
was  peculiar.  In  the  same  way  actors  rehearse  thei? 


Dimitri  Roudine.  203 

parts,  and  diplomats  interchange  their  carefully  prepared 
phrases. 

Roudine  went  out.  He  now  knew  from  experience  how 
the  worldly  throw  over  people  whom  they  can  no  longer 
use,  or  rather,  how  they  drop  them,  like  old  gloves,  or 
lottery-tickets  that  fail  to  win. 

He  packed  up  his  things  quickly  and  waited  impatiently 
for  the  moment  of  departure.  All  the  people  of  the  house 
were  much  surprised  when  they  heard  of  his  sudden  plan  ; 
even  the  servants  looked  at  him  coldly.  The  ingenuous 
Bassistoff  could  not  hide  his  grief.  It  was  evident  that 
Natalie  avoided  Roudine.  She  even  tried  to  keep  out  of 
his  sight ;  but  he  succeeded  in  handing  her  his  letter.  At 
table  Daria  Michaelovna  again  expressed  her  hope  of  see- 
ing Roudine  before  she  left  for  Moscow,  but  he  made  no 
reply.  Pandalewski  talked  more  with  him  than  did  any 
of  the  others,  and  Roudine  more  than  once  felt  a  longing 
to  fall  on  him  and  slap  his  rosy  cheeks.  Miss  Boncourt 
often  glanced  at  Roudine  with  that  very  strange  and  crafty 
expression  which  may  be  seen  on  the  face  of  pointers. 


2O4  Dimitri  Roudinc. 

"  Ila,  ha  ! "  she  seemed  to  say,  "  so  that  is  the  way  they 
treat  you  to-day." 

At  last  six  o'clock  struck,  and  Roudine's  carriage  drove 
up  to  the  door.  He  bade  a  hasty  adieu  to  every  one.  He 
was  very  ill  at  ease.  He  had  not  expected  to  leave  the 
house  in  this  fashion ;  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were 
turned  out  of  it  .  ..."  What  has  happened  ?  why  need 
I  hurry  so  ?  There  must  be  an  end  to  everything."  Such 
were  the  thoughts  which  kept  running  through  his  head  as 
with  a  forced  smile  he  made  his  bow  to  them  all.  He  cast 
one  last  look  at  Natalie,  and  his  heart  was  moved  within 
him.  Her  eyes  were  fastened  upon  him  with  a  sad, 
reproachful  expression. 

He  ran  quickly  down-stairs  and  sprang  into  his  carriage. 
Bassistoff  had  offered  to  accompany  him  as  far  as  the  first 
station,  and  took  his  seat  by  his  side. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  began  Roudine,  as  soon  as  the 
carriage  had  rolled  out  of  the  court-yard  into  the  broad 
highway,  bordered  by  pines,  "  do  you  remember  what 
Don  Quixote  said  to  his  squire  as  he  left  the  castle  of  the 


Dimitrl  Roudine.  205 

duchess  ?  *  Liberty,  friend  Sancho,  is  one  of  the  choicest 
gifts  that  Heaven  hath  bestowed  upon  man.  Happy  is  he 
to  whom  Heaven  hath  given  a  morsel  of  bread  without 
laying  him  under  an  obligation  to  any  but  Heaven  itself  I ' 

I  now  feel  as  Don  Quixote  felt  then May  God 

grant,  my  dear  Bassistoff,  that  you  may  never  come  to  feel 
in  this  way  !  " 

Bassistoff  pressed  Roudine's  hand  warmly,  and  his  honest 
heart  beat  strongly  within  his  breast.  Until  they  reached 
the  station  Roudine  talked  about  the  dignity  of  men,  of 
the  meaning  of  real  freedom  ;  his  words  were  warm, 
noble,  and  true ;  and  when  they  were  taking  leave  of  one 
another  Bassistoff  could  not  help  falling  on  his  neck  and 
sobbing.  Roudine  too  shed  a  few  tears,  —  but  not  on 
account  of  leaving  Bassistoff.  His  tears  were  those  of 
wounded  self-love. 

Natalie  had  gone  to  her  room  to  read  Roudine*s 
letter. 

"  Dear  Natalie,"  he  wrote,  "  I  have  decided  to  go  away. 
No  other  course  was  possible.  I  decided  to  go  away  before 


206  Dimitri  Roudine. 

I  was  openly  ordered  off.  My  departure  will  put  an  end 
to  all  misunderstandings,  and  no  one  will  miss  me.  Why 
hesitate,  then?  ....  All  that  is  true,  you  will  think, 
but  why  write  to  you  ? 

"I  am  taking  leave  of  you,  probably  forever,  and  I 
write  because  it  is  too  bitter  for  me  to  think  that  I  am 
leaving  behind  me  a  worse  reputation  than  I  deserve.  I 
do  not  wish  to  justify  myself,  nor  to  accuse  any  one  except 
myself;  I  only  want  to  explain  my  conduct  as  much  as 

possible The  events  of  the  last  few  days  were  so 

unexpected,  so  sudden 

"  To-day's  interview  with  you  will  always  serve  me  as  a 
lesson.  Yes,  you  are  right ;  I  thought  I  knew  you,  but  I 
did  not.  In  the  course  of  my  life  I  have  met  a  great  many 
women  and  young  girls,  but  in  you  I  found  for  the  first 
time  a  really  pure  and  honest  soul.  That  was  new  to  me, 
and  I  did  not  appreciate  you.  From  the  first  day  of  our 
acquaintance  I  felt  myself  drawn  towards  you ;  yoi '  must 
have  noticed  it.  I  passed  many  hours  with  you,  and  I  did 
not  get  to  know  you ;  nay,  I  did  not  even  try  to  know 


Dimitri  Roudine.  207 

you  ....  and  yet  I  imagined  that  I  loved  you.  For  this 
error  I  am  now  punished. 

"  Before  this  I  loved  a  woman  and  was  loved  in  return. 
....  My  feeling  for  her  was  complex,  like  hers  for  me. 
Could  it  be  otherwise,  since  hers  was  not  a  simple  nature  ? 
The  truth  had  not  then  manifested  itself  to  me,  and  the 

day  it  appeared  before  me,  I  did  not  recognize  it 

Afterwards  I  recognized  it,  but  it  was  too  late The 

past  does  not  return Our  separate  lives  might  have 

become  one  —  and  they  are  separated  forever.  How  can 
I  convince  you  that  I  could  have  loved  you  with  true  love 
when  I  do  not  even  know  whether  I  am  capable  of  such 
love? 

"  Nature  has  been  generous  to  me ;  I  know  it,  and  I  will 
not  assume  airs  of  false  modesty  before  you,  especially  now, 
in  this  hour,  which  is  one  of  the  bitterest  and  most  humil- 
iating of  my  life Yes,  nature  has  accorded  me 

much,  but  I  shall  die  without  making  any  proper  use  of  my 
gifts  —  without  leaving  a  trace  of  any  good  done  in  my  life 
here  below. 


208  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  All  my  riches  will  have  been  wasted  in  vain  ;  I  shall 
never  reap  the  fruit  of  my  exertions.  I  lack  ....  I  can- 
not myself  say  exactly  what  it  is  I  lack  —  but  it  is  probably 
that  which  is  indispensable  for  moving  the  heart  of  men 
and  winning  that  of  a  woman  ;  and  to  rule  over  the  intel- 
ligence alone  is  as  uncertain  as  it  is  futile.  My  fate  is  a 
strange  one,  it  is  almost  ridiculous.  I  should  like  to  give 
myself  up  absolutely,  without  reserve,  entirely,  and  yet  I 
cannot  give  myself  up.  I  shall  end  by  sacrificing  myself 

for  some  folly,  in  which  I  shall  not  believe Heavens  1 

Thirty-five  years  old,  and  still  preparing  for  action  ! 

"  I  have  never  before  spoken  so  frankly  to  any  one  —  this 
is  my  confession. 

"  But  enough  about  myself ;  I  want  to  speak  about  you, 

to  give  you  some  advice.  That  is  all  I  am  good  for 

You  are  still  young ;  but,  however  long  you  live,  never  fail 
to  follow  the  impulse  of  your  heart ;  never  let  yourself  be 
controlled  by  your  own  reason,  nor  by  that  of  others.  Be- 
lieve me,  the  narrower  and  more  monotonous  the  circle  in 
which  our  life  moves,  the  better  it  is ;  it  is  not  for  us  to 


Dimitri  Roudine.  209 

seek  new  paths  of  existence,  but  to  try  to  have  all  its 
phases  accomplished  in  the  right  time.  *  Happy  he  who 
is  young  in  the  time  of  his  youth  I '  But  I  notice  that  this 
advice  is  more  suitable  for  me  than  for  you. 

"  I  confess,  Natalie,  my  heart  is  heavy.  I  was  never 
mistaken  with  regard  to  the  feeling  which  I  inspired  in 
Daria  Michaelovna ;  but  I  still  hoped  that  I  had  found  a 

brief  refuge  here Now  I  must  go  out  again  into  the 

world. 

"  What  can  replace  for  me  your  sweet  voice,  your  pres- 
ence, your  attentive,  intelligent  face  ?  .  .  .  .  The  fault 
is  mine ;  but  acknowledge  that  fate  has  seemed  to  be 
jesting  with  us.  Only  a  week  ago  I  hardly  suspected  that 
I  loved  you.  The  other  evening  in  the  garden  I  for  the 
first  time  heard  from  your  lips  ....  but  why  recall 
what  you  said  then  ?  ....  And  now  I  am  going  away, 
covered  with  shame,  humiliated,  after  a  cruel  explanation, 

without  carrying  the  slightest  hope And  yet  you 

do  not  know  how  guilty  I  am  towards  you I  am  so 

foolishly  frank,  so  inclined  to  make  a  confidant  of  every 
14 


2IO  Dimitri  Roudine. 

one But  why  speak  of  that!     J  am  going  away 

forever." 

(Roudine  began  to  tell  her  about  his  visit  to  Volinzoff,    . 
but  after  a  few  moments  of  reflection  he  scratched  the 
passage  out  and  wrote  the  second  postscript  to  the  letter 
to  Volinzoff.) 

"I  only  remain  in  the  world  in  order  to  give  myself  up 
to  other  occupations,  to  occupations  more  worthy  of  me, 
as  you  said  this  morning  with  a  cruel  smile.  Alas !  if  I 
could  but  give  myself  up  to  them,  if  I  could  but  overcome 
my  indolence  !  No,  I  shall  all  my  life  be  the  incomplete 

being  I  now  am At  the  first  obstacle,  I  shall  crumble 

into  dust.  What  has  passed  between  us  proves  that.  If  I 
had  at  least  sacrificed  my  love  to  my  future  activity,  to  my 
occupations  ;  but  no,  I  only  hesitated  before  the  respon- 
sibility I  should  have  to  assume,  and  the  certainty  that  I 
was  unworthy  of  you.  I  do  not  deserve  that  you  should 

leave   your   sphere   for   me Besides,  all   that  has 

happened  is  doubtless  for  the  best.  This  experience  will 
leave  me  probably  purer  and  stronger  than  before. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  21 1 

"  I  wish  you  every  happiness.     Farewell  1     Think  of  me 
sometimes.     I  hope  that  you  will  hear  of  me  yet. 

"  ROUDINE." 

Natalie  let  Roudine's  letter  fall  into  her  lap,  and  sat  for 
a  long  time  motionless,  staring  at  the  floor.  This  letter 
convinced  her  more  clearly  than  all  possible  testimony, 
how  right  she  had  been  in  her  involuntary  cry  on  leaving 
him  that  morning,  that  he  did  not  love  her.  But  this  fact 
brought  her  no  consolation.  She  sat  without  moving ;  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  dark,  noiseless  waves  were  closing  over  ,/ 
her  head  and  she  were  gliding,  cold  and  numb,  to  the  bot- 
tom of  an  abyss.  The  first  disappointment  every  one  finds 
hard  to  bear,  but  it  is  almost  crushing  to  a  candid  soul,  ^ 
which  is  unfamiliar  with  exaggeration  and  frivolity,  and 
which  is  averse  to  deceiving  itself.  Natalie  recalled  her 
childhood,  and  thought  of  the  evening  walks  she  used  to 
take.  She  always  used  to  prefer  going  in  the  direction  of 
the  glowing  sunset,  and  she  instinctively  turned  her  eyes 
away  from  the  gloomy  east.  Now  life  stood  dark  before 
her ;  she  had  turned  her  back  on  the  light 


212  Dimitri  Roudine. 

Tears  stood  in  Natalie's  eyes.  Tears  are  not  always  a 
relief.  They  are  refreshing  when,  long  restrained,  they  at 
last  burst  forth  —  at  first,  burning  and  bitter,  then  more 
abundant  and  readier.  In  this  way  the  dull  pang  of  grief 

is  assuaged But  there  are  cold  tears,  which  fall 

one  by  one,  as  if  pressed  from  the  heart  by  some  heavy 
burden  of  sorrow.  Such  tears  are  unconsoling ;  they  bring 
no  relief.  They  are  the  tears  of  despair,  and  only  he  who 
has  shed  them  has  been  unhappy.  On  that  day  Natalie 
learned  to  know  them. 

Two  hours  passed.  Natalie  calmed  herself,  arose,  dried 
her  eyes,  and  lit  her  lamp ;  then  at  the  flame  she  set  fire 
to  Roudine's  letter.  When  it  was  wholly  burned  she 
threw  the  ashes  out  of  the  window.  Then  she  opened  at 
random  a  volume  of  Pouchkine's  poems,  and  read  the  first 
lines  that  met  her  eyes ;  she  often  consulted  the  book  in 
this  way.  She  came  upon  these  words,  — 

"  Whoever  has  felt  deeply 
Is  incessantly  pursued  by  the  phantom 
Of  days  irrevocably  passed ; 


Dimitri  Roiidine.  213 

For  him  life  has  lost  its  charm; 

He  is  gnawed  by  remorse  for  the  past."        * 

She  remained  standing  a  moment ;  she  glanced  with  a 
cold  smile  at  her  image  in  the  glass,  bowed  her  head 
slowly,  and  went  into  the  parlor. 

As  soon  as  Daria  saw  her,  she  asked  her  to  her  boudoir 
and  made  her  sit  down  at  her  side.  She  caressed  her 
cheeks  kindly,  and  gazed  at  her  eyes  attentively,  almost 
inquisitively.  Daria  was  secretly  perplexed.  For  the 
first  time  in  her  life  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  did  not 
understand  her  daughter's  character.  When  she  heard 
from  Pandalewski  of  her  daughter's  meeting  with  Roudine, 
she  was  less  angry  than  surprised  that  her  sensible  Natalie 
should  have  consented  to  take  such  a  step.  But  when  she 
summoned  her  and  began  to  blame  her,  not  like  a  woman 
of  society,  but  with  a  very  strident  voice  and  vulgar  man- 
ners, Natalie's  firm  answers  and  resolute  air  confused  and 
almost  intimidated  her.  Roudine's  sudden  and  not  per- 
fectly explicable  departure  removed  a  great  load  from  her 
heart ;  but  she  had  expected  tears  and  hysterics  .  .  . 


214  Dimitri  Rotidine. 

and  Natalie's  outward  calm  consequently  led  her  into  new 
misconceptions. 

"  Well,  my  child,"  began  Daria,  "  how  do  you  feel  to« 
day?" 

Natalie  looked  at  her  mother. 

"  He  is  gone  —  that  gentleman.  Do  you  know  why  he 
left  so  suddenly  ?  " 

"  Mamma,"  answered  Natalie  calmly,  "  I  give  you  my 
word  that  if  you  won't  speak  of  him,  you  shall  never  hear 
me  say  a  word  about  him." 

"  You  see  then  how  ill  you  treated  me  ?  " 

Natalie  bowed  her  head,  and  repeated,  — 

"  You  shall  never  hear  me  say  a  word  about  him." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Daria,  smiling,  "  I  believe  you. 
But  do  you  remember  the  other  day,  how  ....  Well,  we 
won't  speak  of  that.  That's  all  dead  and  buried  and  for- 
gotten. Is  it  not  ?  Now  I  recognize  you  once  more.  I  was 
all  in  confusion.  Well,  kiss  me,  my  dear,  good  child."  .  .  . 

Natalie  raised  Daria's  hand  to  her  lips,  and  Daria  kissed 
her  daughter's  bowed  head. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  215 

"  Always  listen  to  my  advice,  don't  forget  that  you  are 
a  Lassounski  and  my  daughter,  and,"  she  added,  "  you 
•will  be  happy,  Now  you  can  go." 

Natalie  went  out  in  silence.  Daria  looked  at  her  and 
thought,  "  She's  just  what  I  used  to  be  —  she  will  let  her- 
self be  carried  away ;  but  she  has  less  enthusiasm  than  I 
had."  And  Daria  buried  herself  in  thoughts  of  the  past 
—  of  a  very  distant  past.  Then  she  sent  for  Miss  Bon- 
court,  and  sat  conferring  with  her  for  a  long  time.  After 
she  was  dismissed,  she  summoned  Pandalewski.  She  wanted 
to  find  out  the  real  reason  of  Roudine's  departure.  It  may 
be  readily  understood  that  Pandalewski  satisfied  her  com- 
pletely. It  was  in  his  role. 

The  next  day  Volinzoff  and  his  sister  dined  at  Daria's. 
She  had  always  been  very  kind  to  them,  but  that  day  she 
received  them  with  exceptional  warmth.  Natalie  was 
very  melancholy.  Volinzoff  treated  her,  however,  with 
such  respect,  he  was  so  modest  when  he  spoke  to  her,  that 
phe  could  not  help  being  profoundly  grateful  to  him. 

The  day  was  quiet  and  without  incident  ;  but  they  all 


216  Dimitri  Ron  dine. 

felt,  when  they  separated,  that  they  had  fallen  into  the 
old  path,  and  that  is  a  great  deal. 

Yes,  the  old  life  had  begun  for  all,  except  Natalie. 
When  at  last  she  was  alone,  she  dragged  herself  to  her 
bed,  and,  worn  out,  buried  her  head  in  the  pillow. 

Life  seemed  to  her  so  bitter,  so  hollow;  she  was  so 
ashamed  of  herself,  of  her  love  and  her  sufferings,  that  at 
that  moment  she  would  probably  have  been  willing  to  die. 
....  Many  sad  days,  many  sleepless  nights,  many  keen 
sufferings  awaited  her :  but  she  was  young ;  her  life  had 
but  just  begun,  and  sooner  or  later,  life  with  its  duties 
and  distractions  is  sure  to  get  the  upper  hand.  Whatever 
blow  may  fall  upon  a  human  being,  he  cannot  help- 
reader,  forgive  the  brutality  of  the  phrase — he  cannot 
help  eating  on  that  day  or  the  next,  and  that  is  the  first 
consolation.  Natalie's  sufferings  were  bitter ;  she  suffered 

for  the  first  time But  neither  the  first  sufferings 

nor  the  first  love  can  be  repeated  —  and  for  that  we  ought 
to  thank  God. 


X11L 

ABOUT  two  years  have  passed.  It  is  the  beginning  of 
May.  Alexandra  Paulovna,  no  longer  Lipina,  but  Lesch- 
nieff',  is  sitting  on  the  balcony.  It  is  more  than  a  year 
since  she  married  Michael  Michaelovitch.  She  is  as 
charming  as  ever,  only  she  has  become  a  little  stouter. 
The  balcony  is  connected  by  a  few  steps  with  the  garden, 
in  which  a  nurse  is  carrying  in  her  arms  a  little  pink- 
cheeked  baby,  clad  in  a  white  dress  and  a  white-fringed 
cap.  Alexandra  is  watching  them  attentively.  The  baby 
is  not  crying,  but  gravely  sucking  its  thumb  and  looking 
about  quietly.  It  shows  itself  already  to  be  the  son  of 
Michael  Michaelovitch. 

Our  old  acquaintance  Pigasoff  is  sitting  on  the  balcony 
at  Alexandra's  side.  Since  we  last  met  him  he  has  grown 


2l8  Dimitri  Rondine. 

grayer  and  thinner.  His  shoulders  are  bent,  and  he  lisps, 
owing  to  the  loss  of  a  tooth.  This  lisp  adds  to  the  bitter- 
ness of  his  remarks.  His  extreme  irritability  has  not 
diminished  with  age,  but  his  wit  is  less  cutting,  and  he 
has  become  prone  to  repeat  himself.  Michael  is  not  at 
home  ;  they  are  awaiting  his  return  before  taking  tea.  The 
sun  has  already  set.  As  it  disappeared  it  left  behind  a 
long,  light,  gold-colored  glow  in  the  west,  while  in  the  east 
are  two  lines  of  different  hues,  the  lower  somewhat  blue, 
the  other,  reddish  violet.  Light  clouds  are  gathering 
in  the  zenith.  Everything  seems  to  promise  pleasant 
weather. 

Pigasoff  suddenly  began  to  laugh. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at,  Africanus  ?  "  asked  Alex- 
andra Paulo  vna. 

"  Oh,  nothing ;  it  occurred  to  me  ....  yesterday  I 
heard  a  peasant  say  to  his  wife,  who  had  begun  to  talk  too 
much,  '  Don't  creak  so  ! '  That  word  *  creak  '  pleased  me. 
And  can  a  woman  talk  ?  You  know  I  always  except  the 
present  company.  Our  fathers  were  wiser  than  we.  In 


Dimitri  Roudine.  'v-*./2<iQ 

their  stories  a  young  girl  is  always  represented  sitting  i\t 
a  window,  with  a  star  on  her  forehead,  and  as  dumb  as  a 
fish.  That's  the  way  it  ought  to  be.  Judge  for  yourself. 
Day  before  yesterday  the  wife  of  the  marshal  of  the  dis- 
trict —  it  came  at  me  like  a  pistol-shot  —  said  to  me  that 
she  did  not  like  my  tendencies.  My  tendencies  !  Would 
it  not  be  better,  I  ask  you,  for  a  beneficent  interposition 
of  nature  to  deprive  this  lady  and  all  her  sisters  of  the  use 
of  language  ?  " 

"  You  are  always  the  same,  Africanus  ;  you  are  always 
attacking  us  poor,  helpless  women.  Really,  I  pity  you  for 
this  prejudice.  It's  a  real  misfortune." 

"  Misfortune !  What  do  you  mean  ?  In  the  first  place, 
I  think  there  are  only  three  misfortunes  in  the  world, 
namely,  living  in  a  cold  room  in  winter,  wearing  tight 
shoes  in  summer,  and  sleeping  in  the  same  room  with  a 
crying  child  which  one  can't  whip.  Besides,  haven't  I 
become  one  of  the  most  peaceful  men  in  the  world?  I 
have  become  a  most  moral  man,  an  example  for  the  whole 
world  !  My  conduct  is  most  upright." 


22O  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  Ah,  indeed ;  so  you  conduct  yourself  well  1  Why  then 
did  Ellen  Antovna  come  yesterday  to  complain  of  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ho  !  what  did  she  say,  if  you  please  ?  " 

"  She  said  that  the  whole  morning  the  only  answer  you 
had  made  to  her  questions  was  *  Wh-at  ?  wh-at  ?  '  and  that 
with  a  whimpering  voice." 

Pigasoff  began  to  laugh. 

"You  must  confess  that  was  a  good  idea,  Alexandra 
Paulovna  ....  what?" 

"  Oh,  a  capital  idea  1  How  can  you  be  so  impolite  to  a 
woman  ?  " 

"  What  ?    Do  you  consider  Ellen  Antovna  a  woman  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  consider  her  ?  " 

"  A  drum,  a  real  drum,  to  be  beaten  with  sticks."  .... 

"  Oh,  my  friend,"  interrupted  Alexandra  Paulovna, 
anxious  to  change  the  conversation,  "  it  appears  you  are  to 
be  congratulated." 

"On  what?" 

"  On  the  settling  of  your  lawsuit.  The  Glinow  meadows 
are  yours." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  221 

"  They  are  mine,"  answered  Pigasoff,  gloomily. 

"  You  have  been  fighting  for  several  years,  and  now  you 
don't  seem  pleased." 

"  I  must  say,  Alexandra  Paulovna,"  said  Pigasoff, 
slowly,  "  there  is  nothing  more  disagreeable  in  the  world 
than  a  piece  of  good  fortune  which  comes  too  late.  It  can't 
give  you  any  pleasure,  and  it  deprives  you  of  the  riglr, 
which  is  so  precious,  of  abusing  your  fate.  Yes,  I  repeat 
it,  a  tardy  good  fortune  is  a  bitter  and  insulting  jest." 

Alexandra  merely  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Nurse,"  she  cried,  "  I  think  it's  time  to  put  Micha  to 
bed.  Bring  him  here." 

Alexandra  busied  herself  with  the  boy,  while  Pigasoff 
went  off  grumbling  to  the  other  end  of  the  piazza. 

Suddenly  Michael  Michaelovitch's  droschke  appeared  at 
the  end  of  the  carriage-way  which  skirted  the  garden. 
Two  enormous  wateh-dogs,  one  gray,  the  other  yellow,  ran 
before  the  horse ;  he  had  recently  bought  them.  They 
were  the  best  of  friends,  and  were  biting  one  another  from 
morning  till  night.  An  old  terrier  ran  to  the  gate  to 


222  Dimitri  Roudine. 

meet  them,  and  opened  his  mouth  as  if  to  baik,  but  he 
only  gaped  and  turned  back,  wagging  his  tail. 

"  Sacha,  guess  whom  I  have  brought  you,"  cried  Lesch- 
nieff,  from  afar. 

Alexandra  Paulovna  did  not  at  first  recognize  the  per- 
son who  was  sitting  behind  her  husband. 

"  Ah  !  Mr.  Bassistoff  1  "  she  said,  at  last. 

"  Himself,"  answered  Leschnieff,  "  and  he  brings  good 
news  ;  you  shall  hear  it  in  a  moment ;  "  and  he  drove  into 
the  court. 

A  few  minutes  after,  he  appeared  on  the  balcony  with 
Bassistoff. 

"  Hurrah  1  "  he  cried  as  he  embraced  her,  "  Sergius  is 
going  to  be  married/* 

"  To  whom  ?  " 

"  To  Natalie,  of  course Our  friend  here  brought 

the  news  from  Moscow  ;  he  has  a  letter  to  you Do 

you  hear,  Micha  ?  "  he  continued,  seizing  Micha's  handa 
"  Your  uncle  is  going  to  be  married.     What  composure 
He  only  wirjks  his  eyes  at  the  news." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  223 

"  He  is  sleepy,"  said  the  nurse. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bassistoff',  approaching  Alexandra,  "  I  have 
just  arrived  to-day  from  Moscow.  Daria  sent  me  on  busi- 
ness, to  arrange  the  accounts.  Here  is  the  letter." 

Alexandra  hastily  opened  her  brother's  letter.  It  was 
only  a  few  lines,  written  in  the  first  outburst  of  joy. 
Volinzoff  told  his  sister  that  he  had  proposed  to  Natalie, 
and  that  he  had  her  consent  and  that  of  her  mother.  He 
promised  to  write  more  at  length  by  the  next  post,  and, 
meanwhile,  he  embraced  and  kissed  them  all  in  thought. 
He  evidently  wrote  in  a  whirl  of  excitement. 

Tea  was  brought.  Bassistoff  was  given  a  seat.  They 
plied  him  with  questions.  All,  even  including  Pigasoff, 
were  rejoiced  at  the  news  the  young  man  had  brought. 

"  Tell  me,  please,"  said  Leschnieff  in  the  course  of  the 
conversation,  "  we  heard  some  rumors  about  a  certain  Mr. 
Kartchagine ;  was  there  any  foundation  for  them  ?  " 

This  Kartchagine,  of  whom  we  have  hitherto  made  no 
mention,  was  a  good-looking  young  man,  a  dandy,  very 
pompous  and  self-satisfied.  He  tried  to  give  himself  digni- 


224  Dimitri  Roudine. 

fied  airs,  as  if  he  were  not  a  human  being,  but  his  own 
statue  erected  by  national  subscription. 

"  There  was  some  foundation,"  answered  Bassistoff, 
with  a  smile.  "  Daria  Michaelovna  was  well  disposed 
towards  him ;  but  Natalie  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him." 

"I  know  him,"  interrupted  Pigasoff.  "He's  a  perfect 
booby,  a  thorough  blockhead.  Dear  me  1  If  everybody 
was  like  him,  one  would  have  to  be  paid  dear  to  consent  to 
live." 

"  I  don't  contradict  you,"  answered  Bassistoff,  "  although 
he  has  a  very  high  position  in  the  world." 

"  Well,  it's  all  the  same  to  us,"  cried  Alexandra  Pau 
lovna.  "  Don't  let  us  talk  about  him  !  Oh,  how  glad  I 
am  for  my  brother  1  ....  And  Natalie  is  happy  ?  " 

"  Yes.  She  is  as  quiet  as  ever  —  you  know  her  —  but 
she  seems  happy." 

The  evening  passed  with  pleasant  conversation.  Supper 
was  brought. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Leschnieff  to  Bassistoff,  pouring  him 


Dimitri  Roudine.  225 

out  some  claret,  "do  you  know  what  has  become   of 
Roudine  ?  " 

"  Where  he  is  just  now,  I  don't  know.  Last  winter  he 
was  at  Moscow  for  a  short  time,  and  then  he  went  to  Sim- 
birsk with  a  family.  He  and  I  corresponded  for  a  short 
time.  In  his  last  letter  he  said  he  was  going  to  leave 
Simbirsk,  without  saying  where  he  was  going.  Since 
then  I  have  not  heard  from  him." 

"  He  won't  get  lost,"  said  Pigasoff.  "  He's  preaching 
somewhere  or  other.  That  gentleman  will  always  have 
two  or  three  admirers  who  will  listen  to  him  open-mouthed, 
and  whose  money  he  will  borrow.  Take  my  word,  his  end 
will  be  that  he'll  die, 'either  in  prison  or  in  exile  in  the 
home  of  some  old  maid  with  false  hair,  who  will  consider 
him  one  of  the  greatest  geniuses  in  the  world." 

"  You  judge  him  very  mercilessly,"  muttered  Bassistoff, 
evidently  displeased. 

"  Mercilessly  1  not  at  all,"  answered  Pigasoff,  "  but 
justly.  In  my  opinion  he's  nothing  but  a  parasite.  I  had 

forgotten  to  tell  you,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Leschnieff, 
15 


226  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"that  I  met  that  Terlasoff  with  whom  Roudine  travelled 
abroad.  You  can  form  no  idea  of  all  he  told  me  about 
him  —  it's  really  too  absurd  1  It's  a  singular  fact  that  all 
Roudine's  friends  and  admirers  in  course  of  time  become 
his  enemies." 

"  I  beg  you  will  not  include  me  among  such  friends  1 " 
cried  Bassistoff,  excitedly. 

"You  ....  that's  a  different  thing.  I  did  not  refer 
to  you." 

"  What  did  Terlasoff  tell  you  ?  "  asked  Alexandra. 

"  A  number  of  stories.  I  can't  remember  them  all ;  but 
this  is  one  of  the  best.  It  seems  that  being  incessantly 
occupied  with  his  development,  he  came  to  theconvictior, 
by  means  of  philosophy,  that  he  ought  to  fall  in  love.  So 
he  began  to  seek  an  object  worthy  of  justifying  such  a 
wonderful  conclusion.  At  last  fortune  smiled  upon  him. 
He  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  French  woman,  a  lovely 
dressmaker.  Observe  that  this  took  place  in  Germany, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  He  began  by  making  her  a 
few  visits,  then  he  lent  her  some  books,  and  began  to  talk 


Dimitri  Roudine.  227 

to  her  about  nature  and  Hegel.  Do  you  picture  the 
position  of  the  unfortunate  dressmaker?  She  took  him 
for  an  astronomer.  His  personal  appearance  pleased  her, 
as  you  may  imagine ;  besides,  he  was  a  foreigner  —  a 
Russian :  how  could  her  heart  help  being  touched  ? 
After  endless  hesitation  he  agreed  on  a  rendezvous,  a  very 
poetical  rendezvous,  with  her  ;  he  proposed  a  sail  on  the 
Rhine.  The  Frenchwoman  consents;  she  puts  on  her 
most  becoming  dress,  and  they  set  off.  They  sail  for 
about  three  hours.  And  what  do  you  think  he  was  doing 
all  the  time  ?  He  smoothed  her  hair,  he  gazed  dreamily 
at  the  sky,  and  repeated  frequently  that  he  felt  towards 
his  mistress  like  a  father.  She  reached  home  in  a  rage, 
and  afterwards  told  it  all  to  Terlasoff.  That's  the  sort  of 

man  Roudine  was !  " 

/ 
And  Pigasoff  burst  out  laughing. 

"  You  are  an  old  cynic  1 "  said  Alexandra,  in  a  tone  of 
vexation,  "  but  I  am  sure  that  even  those  who  most  dislike 
Roudine  cai.not  find  anything  dishonorable  to  say  about 
Uhn." 


228  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  Nothing  dishonorable  1  And  his  way  of  always  living 
at  other  people's  expense,  and  his  borrowing  ....  I'd  be 
willing  to  bet  he  has  borrowed  money  from  you,  Michael 
Michaelovitch." 

"  Listen  to  me,  Africanus  Simeonovitch,"  began  Lesch- 
nieff,  while  his  face  assumed  a  serious  expression ;  "  you 
know,  and  my  wife  knows  too,  that  lately  I  have  had  no 
special  fondness  for  Roudine :  on  the  contrary,  very  often 
I  have  judged  him  severely.  In  spite  of  that  "  (Leschnieff 
filled  his  glass  with  champagne),  "  I  propose  this ;  we 
have  just  drunk  the  health  of  your  brother,  Alexandra, 
and  of  Natalie ;  well,  now  let  us  drink  to  the  health  of 
Dimitri  Roudine ! " 

Alexandra  and  Pigasoff  gazed  at  Leschnieff  with 
astonishment,  but  Bassistoff  flushed  with  pleasure  and 
opened  his  eyes  wide. 

"  I  know  him  well,"  continued  Leschnieff,  "  and  I  know 
his  faults  only  too  well.  They  are  so  much  the  greater, 
because  Roudine  is  not  a  petty  man." 

"  Roudine  is  a  man  of  genius,"  interposed  Bassistoff. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  229 

"  He  may  have  genius,"  answered  Leschnieff,  "  I  won't 
deny  it ;  but  the  trouble  is,  he  has  no  character.  I  don't 
want  to  speak  of  that,  but  rather  of  what  is  good  and 
unusual  in  him.  He  is  full  of  enthusiasm,  and  you  can 
believe  a  phlegmatic  man  like  me  when  I  say  that  it  is  a 

_most  precious  quality,  especially  in  a  time  like  the  present. 
We  are  all  unendurably  cold-blooded,  indifferent,  and  apa- 
thetic ;  we  are  indolent  and  unenergetic ;  hence  we  ought  to 
be  grateful  to  any  one  who  can  arouse  and  animate  us,  even 
for  a  moment,  for  we  need  a  spur.  You  remember,  Sacha, 
that  once  when  I  was  talking  about  Roudine  I  accused  him 
of  coldness.  I  was  both  just  and  unjust.  His  coldness  is 
in  his  blood  —  he's  not  to  blame  for  it  —  not  in  his  head. 
I  was  wrong  in  calling  him  an  actor ;  he  is  no  swindle,  no 
cheat :  he  does  not  live  on  other  people  like  a  parasite,  but 
like  a  child Yes,  he  may  die  in  loneliness  and  mis- 
ery, but  should  we  throw  stones  at  him  on  that  account  ? 
He  will  never  accomplish  anything,  because  he  lacks  energy 
and  a  strong  will,  but  who  can  say  that  he  never  has  done, 

'    or  never  will  do,  any  good  ?  that  his  words  have  never  SOWD 


230  Dimitri  Roudine. 

good  seed  in  some  young  heart,  to  which  nature  has  not 
denied  the  force  to  carry  out  what  it  has  conceived  ?  I 
have  felt  it  all  in  myself.  ....  Sacha  knows  what  Rou- 
dine was  to  me  when  I  was  young.  I  remember  that  I 
said  that  Roudine's  words  could  have  no  influence  on  his 
equals  ;  but  I  meant  by  that  those  men  who,  like  me,  have 
reached  an  age  when  they  are  less  susceptible,  who  have 
had  experience  of  life,  and  whose  reason  has  become  hard 
to  satisfy.  There  comes  a  time  in  life  when  a  single  false 
note  destroys  the  harmony  of  the  most  beautiful  piece  of 
music,  but  fortunately  the  ear  of  the  young  is  less  delicate 
and  less  surfeited.  So  long  as  the  idea  is  noble,  what  does 
it  care  for  the  tone  ?  Youth  finds  that  in  itself." 

"  Bravo,  bravo !  "  cried  Bassistoff.  "  That's  treating 
him  with  justice !  As  to  Roudine's  influence,  I  assure 
you  he  not  only  has  the  power  of  moving  you,  but  he 
spurs  you  on,  he  prevents  your  tarrying  by  the  way,  he 
turns  you  upside  down,  he  kindles  a  fire  of  enthusiasm 
within  you  1 " 

"  You  see  ?  "  Lesclmieff  continued,  turning  to  Pigasoff 


Dimitri  Roudine.  231 

"  What  further  proof  do  you  need  ?  You  ridicule  philoso- 
phy ;  no  words  are  too  harsh  for  it.  I  value  it  very  little, 
and  understand  it  perhaps  less,  but  it  is  not  from  philoso- 
phy that  our  greatest  misfortunes  proceed.  Philosophical 
hair-splitting  and  revery  will  never  have  much  influence 
over  the  Russian ;  he  has  too  much  common  sense.  Still 
we  ought  not  to  make  use  of  philosophy  as  a  pretext  to 
attack  every  honest  aspiration  after  science  and  truth. 
It  is  Roudine's  misfortune  that  he  does  not  understand 
Russia,  and  certainly  it  is  a  great  misfortune  for  him.  Our 
country  can  get  along  without  each  one  of  us,  but  none  of 
us  can  get  along  without  our  country.  It  is  sad  for  him 
who  thinks  he  can,  and  doubly  sad  for  him  who  really 
does  forget  the  manners  and  ideas  of  his  country.  Cos- 
mopolitanism is  nonsense,  a  zero,  a  less  than  zero  ;  outside 
of  nationality  there  is  no  art,  no  truth,  no  life,  there  is 
nothing  at  all.  Every  ideal  figure  ought  to  represent  a  1 
type,  at  the  risk  of  at  once  becoming  insignificant  and  / 
vulgar.  But,  I  repeat  it,  it  is  not  Roudine's  fault,  it  is  his 
fate,  —  his  sa  1,  bitter  fate,  —  and  we  cannot  throw  the  re- 


232  Dimitri  Roudine. 

sponsibility  on  him.  It  would  carry  us  too  far  to  try  to 
ascertain  why  men  like  Koudine  are  so  common  in  Russia. 
Let  us  rather  be  grateful  for  the  good  which  there  is  in  him. 
This  is  better  than  to  be  unjust  towards  him,  and  we  have 
been  unjust.  It  is  not  for  us  to  punish  him  because  he  is 
no  better,  and  this  punishment  is  not  necessary ;  he  has 

punished  himself  more  severely  than  he  deserves 

God  grant  that  misfortune  may  rid  him  of  all  his  bad 
qualities,  and  leave  in  him  only  what  is  noble !  I  drink 
the  health  of  Roudine  1  I  drink  the  health  of  the  com- 
panion of  my  best  days ;  I  drink  to  youth,  its  hopes,  its 
aspirations,  its  blind  confidence,  its  honesty,  in  a  word,  to 
all  which  set  our  hearts  a-beating  when  we  were  twenty  I 
We  know  nothing  better  in  life,  nor  shall  we  ever.  I 
drink  to  it,  that  golden  time !  I  drink  Roudine's  health  1  " 

They  all  touched  glasses  with  Leschnieff.  Bassistoff  in 
his  enthusiasm  nearly  broke  his  glass,  which  he  emptied 
at  one  draught,  while  Alexandra  pressed  her  husband'i 
hand. 

"  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so  eloquent,  Mr.  Leschnieff, " 


Dimitri  Roudine.  233 

murmured  Pigasoff ;  "  that  was  worthy  of  Roudine.  I 
must  confess  I  am  really  affected." 

"  I  am  not  a  bit  eloquent,"  answered  Leschnieff,  some- 
what piqued,  "  still,  to  move  you  is  somewhat  difficult,  I 
believe.  But  enough  about  Roudine  ;  let  us  talk  of  some- 
thing else Is  that  ....  what's  his  name  ?  .  .  .  . 

Pandalewski  still  living  at  Daria  Michaelovna's  ?  "  he 
asked,  turning  to  Bassistoff. 

"  Of  course,  he  is  still  there.  She  has  given  him  a  very 
good  position." 

Leschnieff  smiled. 

"  One  can  safely  bet  that  he  will  never  fall  into  dis- 
tress." 

The  supper  ended.  The  guests  separated.  When 
Alexandra  was  left  alone  with  her  husband,  she  gazed  at 
him  affectionately. 

"  How  good  you  were  to-day,  Michael,"  she  said,  gently 
stroking  his  brow ;  "  how  well,  how  nobly  you  spoke  !  But 
confess  you  defended  Roudine  with  a  little  exaggeration, 
just  as  you  used  to  attack  him  too  harshly." 


234  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  One  doesn't  strike  a  man  who's  down  ....  and  be- 
sides, I  was  then  afraid  he  might  turn  your  head,"  he 
added,  smiling. 

"  No,"  answered  Alexandra  frankly,  "  he  always  seemed 
too  learned  for  me ;  I  was  afraid  of  him,  and  did  not  know 
what  I  should  say  when  he  was  present.  But  don't  you 
think  Pigasoff  attacked  him  too  maliciously  this  even- 
ing?" 

"  Pigasoff?  "  said  Leschnieff.  "  That's  just  the  reason 
I  defended  him  so  warmly,  because  Pigasoff  was  there. 
He  presumes  to  call  him  a  parasite !  In  my  opinion 
Pigasoff's  conduct  is  a  hundred  times  worse.  He  has  an 
independence,  he  is  always  attacking  everybody,  yet  in 
spite  of  his  pretended  misanthropy  he  understands  very 
well  how  to  fasten  himself  on  rich  and  distinguished  peo- 
ple. Do  you  know  thai  this  Pigasoff,  who  attacks  his 
equals  so  bitterly,  and  who  is  forever  attacking  philosophy 
and  women,  —  do  you  know  that  when  he  was  in  the 
government  service  he  used  to  take  bribes,  and  large  ones 
too?" 


Dimitri  Roudine.  235 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  cried  Alexandra  Paulovna.  "  1  never 
should  have  thought  it  ....  Micha !  "  she  added  after 
a  moment's  silence,  "  I  want  to  ask  you  something." 

«  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  my  brother  will  be  happy  with 
Natalie  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  say  ?  .  .  .  .  from  all  appearance,  yes  .... 
she  will  have  the  upper  hand  —  we  need  make  no  secret 
of  that  between  ourselves  —  she's  cleverer  than  he ;  but  he 
is  an  excellent  fellow  and  loves  her  with  all  his  heart. 
What  more  would  you  want  I  We  love  one  another  and 
are  happy,  are  we  not  ?  " 

Alexandra  smiled  and  pressed  Michael's  hand. 

On  that  very  day,  while  what  we  have  just  narrated  was 
taking  place  at  the  house  of  Alexandra,  a  wretched 
kibitka,1  covered  with  rushes  and  drawn  by  three 
peasant  horses,  was  creeping  slowly  along  the  high-road 
of  one  of  the  remotest  districts  of  Russia.  A  gray-haired 
peasant,  clad  in  a  long  peasant's  coat,  was  driving,  seated 

l  A  sort  of  covered  carriage.  —  TR. 


236  Dimitri  Roudine. 

on  the  front  seat,  with  his  feet  resting  on  the  shafts.  He 
did  nothing  but  shake  the  reins  and  brandish  his  whip. 
Inside  the  kibitka  a  tall  man  was  sitting  on  a  shabby 
valise.  He  wore  a  cap ;  his  coat  was  old  and  covered  with 
dust.  It  was  Roudine.  He  sat  with  his  head  cast  down, 
and  his  cap  overhanging  his  eyes.  The  jolting  of  tho 
carriage  threw  him  from  side  to  side ;  but  he  seemed  in- 
sensible to  these  discomforts,  as  if  he  were  half  asleep. 
"  When  shall  we  reach  the  next  station  ?  "  he  asked  of  the 
driver. 

"  Soon,  very  soon,"  answered  the  peasant,  drawing  the 
reins  more  strongly,  "  when  we've  got  to  the  top  of  that 

hill,  we  have  only  two  versts  to  go Come,  get  up 

«...  are  you  dreaming  ?  I'll  teach  you  how  to  go  to 
sleep,"  he  added,  beating  the  off  horse  with  his  whip. 

"  You  get  over  the  ground  very  slowly,  it  seems  to  me,' 
remarked  Roudine ;  "  we've  been  crawling  along  all  morn 
ing  without  getting  on.  Can't  you  sing  me  a  song  ?  " 

"  How  can   I  help  it  ?     You   see  the  horses   are  half 
itarved  ....  and  then  it's  so  hot.     Why  do  you  ask  me 


Dimitri  Roudine.  237 

to  sing  ?  I'm  not  a  postilion Hi,  there  I  "  he  cried 

suddenly  to  a  passer-by,  who  was  wearing  a  sort  of  brown 
coat,  and  worn-out  shoes.  "  hi,  there !  get  out  of  the  way  1 " 

"  You  are  a  good  driver  !  "  murmured  the  tramp,  who 
stopped.  "  Wretched  Muscovite ! "  he  continued  with  an 
insulting  air  as  he  started  on. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  the  driver  cried,  tugging  at 
the  reins,  "  you  cursed  brute,  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

At  last  the  tired  horses  reached  the  station.  Roudino 
got  out  of  the  kibitka,  paid  the  driver,  who  did  not  thank 
him,  but  for  a  long  time  turned  the  money  over  in  his  hand 
—  he  had  probably  expected  a  more  generous  sum  for  him- 
self—  while  the  traveller  with  his  own  hands  carried  his 
valise  into  the  waiting-room. 

One  of  my  acquaintances  who  has  travelled  a  great  deal 
in  Russia  has  told  me  that  if  the  walls  of  the  waiting-room 
at  the  post-stations  were  decorated  with  pictures  represent- 
ing scenes  from  Pouchkine's  "  Prisoners  in  the  Caucasus," 
or  Russian  journals,  the  traveller  might  hope  to  get  horses 
without  delay,  but  if  the  pictures  represented  the  life  of 


238  Dimitri  Rotidine. 

the  celebrated  gambler,  Georges  de  Germany ,  the  chancea 
of  leaving  the  place  speedily  were  small.  In  such  cases 
the  traveller  has  plenty  of  time  to  admire  at  his  leisure  the 
powdered  wig,  the  white  waistcoat  with  broad  facings, 
and  the  extraordinarily  tight  and  short  trousers  of  the 
gambler  in  his  youth,  or  to  study  his  face  in  delirium  at 
the  moment  when,  an  old  man,  living  in  a  hut  with  a 
sloping  roof,  he  kills  his  own  son  by  beating  him  on  the 
head  with  a  chair.  Roudine  had  entered  a  room  which 
was  adorned  with  these  pictures  illustrating  "  Thirty  Years, 
or  the  Gambler's  Life."  Roudine's  shouts  soon  brought 
the  sleepy  keeper  of  the  station  to  lam  —  was  one  ever 
seen  who  was  not  sleepy  ?  Without  awaiting  Roudine's 
question,  he  said  at  once,  slowly,  that  he  had  no  horses. 

"  How  can  you  tell  me  you  have  no  horses  without  my 
telling  you  in  what  direction  I  am  going  ?  I  came  here 
with  a  peasant's  horses." 

"  We  haven't  a  single  horse/*  continued  the  keeper, 
"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"To  sk." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  239 

"  There  are  no  horses,"  he  repeated,  leaving  the  room. 

Roudine  stepped  angrily  to  the  window  and  threw  his 
cap  on  the  table.  In  two  years,  without  changing  much, 
he  had  grown  older ;  a  few  silver  lines  glistened  in  his 
hair,  and  his  eyes,  though  still  handsome,  seemed  less 
brilliant ;  fine  wrinkles,  the  marks  of  restless  and  bitter 
thought,  appeared  around  his  lips,  his  eyes,  and  his  temples. 
His  clothes  were  old  and  shabby,  and  no  trace  of  linen  was 
to  be  seen.  His  best  days  were  over,  and,  as  the  gar- 
deners say,  he  had  gone  to  seed. 

Roudine  began  to  read  the  scribblings  on  the  walls  .... 

a  favorite  distraction  of  bored  travellers Suddenly 

the  door  creaked  on  its  hinges  and  the  station-master 
entered. 

"  There  are  no  horses  for sk,"  he  said,  "  and  there 

won't  be  any  for  a  long  time ;  but  there  are  some  return- 
ing to off." 

"  To  off!  "  answered  Roudine,  "but  I  am  not  going 

in  that  direction.  I  am  going  to  Pensa.  It  seems  to  me 
off  lies  towards  Tamboff." 


240  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"What  difference  does  it  make?  You  can  go  from 
Tamboff,  or,  if  you  want  to,  you  can  return  here  from 
off." 

Roudine  thought  for  a  moment. 

«  Well,  I  don't  care,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Have  the  horses 
harnessed.  It's  all  the  same  to  me.  I'll  go  to  Tamboff." 

The  horses  were  soon  ready.  Roudine  carried  down 
his  valise,  got  into  the  kibitka,  and  sat  down  with  droop- 
ing head  as  before.  There  was  helplessness  and  sad 

resignation  in  this  position And  the  three  horses 

fell  into  a  gentle  trot  with  a  monotonous  clatter  along  th« 
road. 


EPILOGUE. 

AGAIN  several  years  have  passed.  On  a  cold  autumn 
day  a  travelling  carriage  stopped  before  the  entrance  of 

the  principal  hotel  in  the  government  of  C .  From  it 

descended  a  gentleman,  puffing  and  stretching  himself.  He 
was  not  old,  but  he  had  already  attained  that  portliness 
which  is  commonly  called  respectable.  He  walked  rather 
quickly  up  one  flight  of  stairs  and  stopped  at  the  entrance 
of  a  broad  corridor,  and  since  he  did  not  see  any  one,  he 
called  aloud  for  a  room.  A  door  opened  slowly,  a  tall  ser- 
vant sprang  out  and  ran  hastily  along  to  show  the  stranger 
his  way.  In  the  darkness  he  was  only  to  be  recognized 
by  the  shininess  of  the  well-worn  elbows  of  his  coat. 

Having  reached  his  room,  the  stranger  took  off  his  over- 
coat and  wraps,  sat  down  on  a  sofa,  placed  his  hands  on 
16 


242  Dimitri  Roudine. 

his  knees,  looked  about  him  as  if  he  had  just  waked  upt 
and  told  the  waiter  to  send  his  servant  to  him.  The 
waiter  bowed  and  went  out.  This  traveller  was  no  other 
than  Leschnieff.  He  had  been  obliged  to  leave  his  estate 
and  come  to  C in  order  to  enroll  recruits. 

LeschniefTs  servant,  a  young,  curly-haired,  red-cheeked 
lad,  wearing  felt  boots  and  a  long  coat  fastened  around  the 
waist  by  a  blue  girdle,  entered  the  room. 

"  Well,  my  boy,  we've  reached  here  at  last,"  said  Lesch- 
nieff, "  in  spite  of  your  fear  that  the  tire  would  fall  off  the 
wheels." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  the  young  man,  trying  to  smile 
behind  his  turned-up  coat-collar  ;  "  but  why  the  tire  didn't 
fall  off,  I  "  .... 

"  Isn't  there  any  one  here  ?  "  some  one  in  the  corridor 
cried. 

Leschnieff  started  and  listened. 

"  I  say,  somebody  1  "  repeated  the  voice. 

Leschnieff  arose,  went  to  the  door,  and  opened  it  sud- 
denly. 


Dimitri  Roudinf.  243 

Before  him  stood  a  tall  man,  very  much  bowed  ;  his  hair 
was  almost  perfectly  white.  He  wore  an  old  cotton-velvet 
overcoat  with  brass  buttons.  Leschnieff  recognized  him 
at  once. 

"  Roudine  ! "  he  said  with  emotion. 

Roudine  turned  around.  He  could  not  distinguish 
LeschniefTs  face,  who  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
light,  and  he  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  Don't  you  remember  me  ?  "  asked  Leschnieff. 

"  Michael  Michaelovitch  !  "  cried  Roudine,  holding  out 
his  hand,  but  he  became  embarrassed,  and  drew  it  back. 

Leschnieff  seized  it  with  both  hands. 

"  Come  in  here,"  he  said,  leading  Roudine  into  his 
room.  "  How  you've  changed ! "  he  added,  after  a 
moment  of  silence,  and  involuntarily  dropping  his  voice. 

"  So  they  tell  me,"  answered  Roudine,  looking  gloomily 
around  the  room.  "  Time  ....  but  you,  you  are  exactly 
the  same.  How  is  Alexandra  ....  I  mean  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  very  well.     What  chance  brings  you  here  ?  " 

"  Me  ?     Oh,  that's  a  long  story.     In  fact  it's  the  meresf 


244  Dimitri  Roudine. 

chance  that  I  am  here.    I  am  looking  for  a  friend  of  mine, 
But  I  am  very  glad  indeed  "  .  .  .  . 

"  Where  shall  you  dine  ?  " 

"  I  ?    I  don't  know.    In  some  inn.    I  must  go  on  to-day." 

"You  must?" 

Roudine  smiled  meaningly. 

"Yes,  I  must.  I  have  been  sent  away  to  live  on  my 
own  estate." 

"  Dine  with  me." 

Roudine  looked  straight  into  LeschniefTs  eyes  for  the 
first  time. 

"  You  ask  me  to  dine  with  you  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  Roudine,  in  the  old  way,  as  old  friends.  Will 
you?  I  did  not  expect  to  meet  you,  and  God  knows 
whether  we  shall  ever  meet  again.  We  can't  part  in  this 
way." 

"  Very  well,  I  accept  gladly." 

Leschnieff  pressed  Roudine's  hand,  called  the  waiter, 
ordered  the  dinner,  and  told  him  to  put  a  bottle  of  cham 
pagne  on  ice. 


Dimitri  Roudine.  245 

As  if  they  did  it  by  agreement,  Leschnieff  and  Roudine 
talked  during  the  dinner  of  nothing  but  their  student  life. 
They  revived  many  memories,  and  talked  of  many  friends, 
living  and  dead.  At  first  Roudine  was  very  quiet,  but 
after  he  had  drunk  a  few  glasses  of  wine  he  warmed  up. 
At  last  the  waiter  removed  the  last  plate;  Lesclmieff 
arose,  bolted  the  door,  and  sat  down  again  at  the  table, 
opposite  Roudine,  resting  his  chin  on  both  hands. 

"  Now  then,"  he  began,  "  you  must  tell  me  everything 
that  has  happened  to  you  since  we  last  met." 

Roudine  threw  a  hasty  glance  at  Leschnieff. 

"My  God,"  thought  Leschnieff  again,  "how  the  poor 
fellow  is  altered  1  " 

It  was  not  so  much  his  features  that  had  changed,  as 
his  expression.  Indeed,  since  the  day  we  met  him  at  the 
station  asking  for  horses  to  continue  his  journey,  his  fea- 
tures had  not  perceptibly  altered,  although  a  slight  exami- 
nation would  have  detected  the  traces  of  the  approach  of 
old  age.  The  eyes  had  another  look.  His  motions,  at  one 
moment  sluggish,  at  the  next,  inexplicably  sudden,  his 


246  Dimitri  Roudine. 

drawling  voice  —  in  a  word,  his  whole  appearance  —  gave 
evidence  of  a  profound  weariness,  a  secret  sadness.  This 
deep  gloom  was  very  different  from  that  half-affected 
melancholy  which  he  used  to  exhibit  like  many  young 
people,  who  are  none  the  less  puffed  up  with  vanity  and 
self-confidence. 

"It  would  be  impossible,"  he  answered,  "to  tell  you 
everything  that  has  happened,  and  besides  it  would  not 
be  worth  while.  I  have  had  a  great  many  troubles,  and 
it's  not  my  body  alone  which  has  been  through  a  great 
deal ;  it's  my  soul  too.  How  many  disenchantments  I  have 
known.  My  God !  How  many  people  I've  known  in- 
timately !  .  .  .  .  Yes,  how  many !  "  repeated  Roudine, 
noticing  that  Leschnieff  was  looking  at  him  with  unwonted 
sympathy.  "  How  often  my  own  words  have  sickened  me 
—  not  merely  from  my  own  lips,  but  when  uttered  by 
those  who  shared  my  views  I  What  transitions  I  have 
known,  from  the  impatience  and  sensitiveness  of  a  chili  ta 
the  stupid  indifference  of  a  horse  which  does  not  stir  be- 
neath his  master's  lash !  How  often  I  have  hoped  in  vain 


Dimitri  Roudine.  247 

and  then  hated  in  vain  !  fought  and  humiliated  myself ! 
How  often  I've  opened  my  wings  like  a  falcon,  —  only  to 
fall  to  the  ground,  to  creep  there,  like  a  snail  with  a  broken 
shell !  Where  have  I  not  been  !  what  ways  does  my  foot 
not  know  I  And  there  are  some  ways  which  are  very 
dirty !  "  added  Roudine,  turning  aside. 

"  You  know,"  he  continued  .... 

"  One  moment,"  interrupted  Leschnieff.  "  Once  we 
said  '  thou  '  to  one  another ;  art  thou  willing  to  do  so  again  ? 
Let  us  drink  to  the  '  thou '  1 " 

Roudine  started,  straightened  himself,  and  in  his  eyes 
flashed  a  hasty  flame  which  no  words  can  describe. 

"  Let  us  drink  to  it,  brother  1  Thanks,  brother,  let  us 
drink  to  it !  " 

Leschnieff  and  Roudine  emptied  their  glasses. 

"  Thou  knowest,"  began   Roudine  again,  accenting  the 
"  thou,"  and   smiling,  "  I  carry  at   my  heart   a   gnawing 
worm  which  will  give  me  no  peace  till  my  dying  day.     It 
drives  me  to  try  to  get  influence  over  men  and  women 
It  first  they  are  impressed  by  me,  but  afterwards  "  .  .  .  . 


248  Dimitri  Roudine. 

Roudine  made  a  deprecating  gesture  with  his  hand. 

"  Since  I  left  you  ....  thee,  I  have  learned  much,  I 

have  seen  much Many  times  I  have  begun  a  new 

life,  after  I  have  set  my  hand  to  some  new  work  —  and 
you  can  see  how  far  I've  got." 

"  Thou  hadst  no  perseverance,"  murmured  Leschnietf, 
as  if  he  were  speaking  to  himself. 

"  As  thou  sayest,  I  had  not  perseverance.  I  have  never 
been  able  to  build  up  anything,  and,  brother,  it  is  not  easy 
to  build,  when  the  ground  is  slipping  away  from  under 
one's  feet.  1  will  not  tell  thee  all  my  adventures,  or  rather 
all  my  discomfitures.  I  will  only  tell  thee  three  or  four 
incidents  of  my  life  when  fortune  seemed  about  to  favor 
me,  that  is  to  say,  when  I  began  to  hope  for  success,  which 
is  not  quite  the  same  thing."  .... 

Roudine  thrust  back  his  white  and  now  somewhat  thin 
ner  hair  with  the  same  motion  of  the  hand  with  which 
he  used  to  press  back  his  thick,  black  locks. 

"  Well,  listen,"  he  began.  "  In  Moscow  I  met  a  rather 
eccentric  man.  He  was  very  rich  and  owned  large  estates ; 


Dimitri  Roudine.  249 

he  was  not  in  the  government  service.  His  chief,  his  only 
passion  was  love  of  science,  of  science  in  general.  I  can't 
understand  to  this  day  how  this  passion  took  possession  of 
him.  It  fitted  him  as  a  saddle  does  a  cow.  He  made 
every  exertion  to  keep  himself  on  what  is  called  an  in- 
tellectual plane,  although  he  was  hardly  able  to  express 
himself;  he  used  to  roll  his  eyes  and  bow  his  head  when 
anything  was  said  in  his  presence.  I  have  never  met  a 
more  meagrely  endowed,  a  less  intellectual  nature  than  his. 
He  reminded  me  of  those  broad  stretches  in  the  govern^ 
ment  of  Smolensk,  where  there  is  nothing  but  sand,  only 
here  and  there  a  tuft  of  grass  which  no  animal  can  eat. 
Nothing  succeeded  in  his  hands ;  everything  seemed  to 
turn  against  him.  He  had  the  mania  of  making  easy 
things  hard.  If  it  had  depended  on  him,  he  would  have 
made  every  one  walk  on  his  head.  He  worked,  read, 
and  wrote  incessantly.  He  studied  with  a  certain  obsti- 
nate persistency  and  unlimited  patience.  His  ambition 
was  unnaturally  great,  and  his  character  of  iron.  He  lived 
alone,  and  was  thought  to  be  very  eccentric.  I  made  his 


250  Dimitri  Roudine. 

acquaintance  and  he  liked  me.  I  must  say  I  soon  read 
him,  but  his  zeal  touched  me.  Then  he  had  so  large 
a  fortune,  so  much  good,  so  much  of  real  value  might  be 
done  by  him  ....  I  went  to  live  with  him,  and  later 
accompanied  him  to  his  place  in  the  country.  My  plans 
were  immense,  my  friend ;  I  dreamed  of  improvements, 
innovations  "  .  .  .  . 

"As  you  did  at  the  Lassounski's,  do  you  remember  ?  " 
interrupted  Leschnieff,  with  a  gentle  smile. 

"Not  at   all.     There  I   knew  my  words   were   thrown 
away,  but  here  ....  here  was  an  entirely  different  field 

open    before    me I    collected    books   on   farming 

....  I  confess  I  could  not  finish  one  of  them  .... 
and  then  I  set  to  work.  At  first  it  didn't  go  as  I  had 
expected,  then  things  took  a  better  turn.  My  new  friend 
did  not  say  a  word ;  he  only  looked  on  without  interfer- 
ing ;  that  is  to  say,  up  to  a  certain  point  he  did  not  intei 
fere  ;  he  adopted  my  plans,  carried  them  out,  but  obsti- 
nately, rigidly,  and  with  a  secret  mistrust  he  tried  to  put 
in  some  ideas  of  his  own  w  .thout  my  knowing  it.  He  had 


Dimitri  Rondine.  251 

a  very  high  opinion  of  the  least  of  his  ideas,  and  clung  to 
it  obstinately,  like  a  lady-bird  on  a  blade  of  grass,  appar- 
ently stretching  its  wings  to  fly  away,  and  then  suddenly 

falling  down  and  creeping  slowly  up  again Don't 

be  surprised  at  all  these  comparisons ;  they  all  occurred  to 
me  at  that  time.  Such  were  my  occupations  for  two  years. 
In  spite  of  all  my  care,  the  result  belied  my  expectations. 
I  began  to  grow  tired,  my  friend  bored  me,  and  I  weighed 
on  him  like  lead.  His  lack  of  confidence  changed  into 
ill-concealed  dislike ;  an  evil  spirit  took  possession  of  us 
both ;  we  couldn't  talk  together  about  anything ;  quietly, 
but  incessantly,  he  tried  to  show  me  that  he  was  not  under 
my  influence  ;  my  arrangements  were  either  changed  or 

wholly  set  aside At  last  I   saw  I  was  merely  an 

intelligent  parasite  in  his  house,  paying  for  his  hospitality 
with  good  words.  I  served  the  wealthy  land-owner  as  an 
aid  in  intellectual  gymnastics.  It  was  painful  for  me  to 
waste  in  vain  my  time  and  strength,  still  more  painful  to 
see  my  hopes  continually  deceived.  I  knew  very  well  how 
much  I  should  lose  if  I  went  away,  but  I  could  not  control 


2$ 2  Dimitri  Roudine. 

myself,  and  one  day,  after  a  brutal  scene  at  which  I  had 
been  present,  and  which  showed  my  friend  in  really  too 
unfavorable  a  light,  I  broke  with  him  entirely  and  went 
away,  bidding  good-by  to  my  aristocratic  pedant,  that 
singular  mixture  of  Cossack  savageness  and  German  sensi- 
tiveness" ...  * 

"  That  is  to  say,  thou  didst  throw  away  thy  daily 
bread,"  cried  Leschnieff,  placing  his  hands  on  Roudine's 
shoulders. 

"  Yes,  and  stood  again  in  the  world  naked  and  unen- 
cumbered. Fly  now  whither  thou  wilt Come,  let 

us  drink ! " 

"  To  thy  health  1 "  said  Leschnieff,  rising  and  embrac- 
ing Roudine.  "  To  thy  health  and  the  memory  of  Po- 
korsky  !  ....  He  too  knew  how  to  remain  poor." 

"  That  was  adventure  number  one,"  said  Roudine,  after 
a  short  pause.  "  Shall  I  go  on  ?  " 

"  Yes,  go  on,  please." 

"  I  really  don't  feel  like  talking ;  I  am  very  tired,  my 
friend  ....  but  if  thou  wishest  it.  After  I'd  roamed 


Dimitri  Roudine.  253 

about  from  place  to  place  ....  I  might  tell  you,  by  the 
way,  how  I  became  secretary  of  a  high  official,  and  how 
that  came  to  an  end,  but  it  would  take  too  much  time  — 
after  roaming  about  a  long  time,  I  determined  to  become 
.  .  .  ,  pray  don't  laugh  ....  to  become  a  business  man, 
a  practical  man.  A  favorable  opportunity  presented  itself ; 
I  met  a  certain  ....  perhaps  thou  hast  heard  of  him  ?  .  .  . . 
a  certain  Kurbeeff."  .... 

"  I  have  never  heard  the  name.  But  excuse  me,  Rou- 
dine, how  was  it  that  with  thy  intelligence  thou  didst  not 
see  it  was  not  —  forgive  the  pun  —  thy  business  to  become 
a  business  man  ?  " 

"  I  know  very  well,  my  friend,  that  it  was  not  in  my 
line ;  but  what  else  is  ?  .  .  .  .If  thou  hadst  only  seen  Kur- 
beeff 1  Don't  think  he  was  an  empty  braggart,  like  so 
many  others  1  They  used  to  say  that  I  was  eloquent,  but 
in  comparison  with  him  I  could  hardly  stammer.  He  was 
a  remarkably  widely-informed,  well-read  man  ;  he  had  a 
really  creative  mind,  a  head  for  all  sorts  of  manufacturing 
and  commercial  affairs.  The  boldest,  most  surprising  plans 


254  Dimitri  Roudine. 

were  always  springing  up  in  his  mind.  We  met  and  re- 
solved to  devote  ourselves  to  some  undertaking  for  the 
benefit  of  the  public."  .... 

"  I  wonder  what  it  was." 

Roudine  cast  down  his  eyes. 

"  Thou  wilt  have  to  laugh  1  " 

"  Why  ?     No,  I  shan't  laugh." 

"  We  determined  to  make  one  of  the  livers  in  the 

governmenL-Qf  K navigable,"  said  Roudine,  with  a 

forced  smile. 

"  Is  that  all  ?     So  Kurbeeff  was  a  capitalist  ?  " 

"  He  was  poorer  than  I,"  answered  Roudine,  still  bow- 
ing his  white  head. 

Leschnieff  burst  out  laughing,  but  stopped  suddenly  and 
grasped  Roudine's  hand. 

"  Forgive  me,  brother,  please,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not  ex- 
pect that  at  all.  Well,  did  your  undertaking  remain  oil 
paper  ?  " 

"  Not  entirely.  A  beginning  was  made.  We  engaged 
workmen  ....  and  set  to  vork.  We  encountered  all 


Dimitri  Roudine.  255 

sorts  of  obstacles.  In  the  first  place,  there  was  a  mill- 
owner,  who  wouldn't  understand  us  :  then,  we  found  the 
water  could  not  be  directed  without  engines ;  and  how 
were  we  to  get  money  for  the  engines  ?  We  slept  in  huts 
for  six  months.  Kurbeeff  ate  nothing  but  bread,  and  I  fared 
no  better.  Still,  I  don't  complain,  for  the  country  there  is 
very  beautiful.  We  made  every  effort  to  interest  mer- 
chants ;  we  sent  out  letters  and  circulars.  The  end  of  it 
all  was,  that  I  spent  my  very  last  penny  in  the  project." 

"  Well,"  said  Leschnieff,  « I  fancy  it  was  not  hard  to  get 
to  thy  last  penny." 

"  No,  indeed.  But  I  can  assure  thee  it  was  not  a  bad 
idea  we  had,  and  it  might  have  brought  us  immense 
profits." 

«  What  has  become  of  this  Kurbeeff  ? "  asked  Lesch- 
nieff. 

"  Of  him  ?  He  is  now  in  Siberia,  digging  for  gold. 
$ut  I'm  sure  he'll  make  his  fortune  some  time  or  other." 

"  I  hope  so ;  but  it's  just  as  sure  that  thou  wilt  always 
remain  poor." 


256  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  I  ?  what  of  that  ?  Besides,  I  know  that  in  thy  eyes  1 
am  a  very  worthless  man." 

"  Thou  ?  Nonsense,  brother.  There  was  a  time,  it  is 
true,  when  I  saw  only  the  dark  sides  of  thy  character ; 
but  now,  believe  me,  I  begin  to  appreciate  thee  more  justly. 
Thou  canst  not  make  money  ....  but  for  that  reason  I 
love  thee."  .... 

Roudine  smiled  faintly. 

«  Really  ?  " 

"  Yes,  really.  I  respect  thee  more.  Dost  thou  under- 
stand me  ?  " 

They  both  were  silent. 

"  Well,  shall  I  tell  thee  number  three  ?  " 

«  Be  so  kind." 

"  This  is  the  third  and  last.  But  am  I  not  boring  you  ?  ' 

"  Go  on,  go  on !  " 

"  Well,  once  in  a  leisure  moment  (I  always  had  plenty 
of  leisure),  an  idea  occurred  to  me.  I  said  to  myself,  'I 
know  enough,  and  I  have  high  aims.'  ....  Thou  wilt  not 
deny  that  I  have  always  had  lofty  aims  ?  " 


Dimitri  Roudine.  257 

«  Far  from  it." 

"  All  my  other  plans  had  failed I  asked  myself 

why  I  should  not  become  a  teacher.  At  any  rate,  it  would 
be  better  than  doing  nothing  at  all." 

Roudine  stopped  and  sighed. 

"  Why  live  without  doing  anything  ?  Would  it  not  be 
better  to  try  to  communicate  what  I  know  to  others  ;  per- 
haps from  me  they  may  get  something  of  profit  for  them- 
selves. My  talents  are  at  least  not  mediocre.  I  have  a 

certain  ease  in  speaking So  I  determined  to  devote 

myself  to  this  new  occupation.  I  had  great  trouble  in 
getting  a  place ;  I  did  not  want  to  give  private  lessons, 
and  I  could  find  no  suitable  place  in  the  primary  schools. 
Finally,  I  got  an  opportunity  as  professor  in  the  Gym- 
nasium in  this  city." 

"  Professor  of  what  ?  *  asked  Leschnieff. 

"  Of  Russian  literature.  I  must  say  I  never  devoted  my- 
self so  ardently  to  anything.  The  idea  of  influencing  the 
young  men  inspired  me.  I  spent  three  weeks  preparing 

for  my  first  lecture." 
17 


258  Dimitri  Roudine. 

"  Is  it  with  thee  ?  "  interrupted  Leschnieff. 

"  No,  I  have  lost  it,  I  don't  know  where.  It  had  a  tolera- 
ble success  and  was  applauded.  I  can  still  see  the  faces 
of  my  hearers,  —  those  handsome  young  faces  with  an 
expression  of  sincere  attention,  sympathy,  yes,  even  of 
surprise.  I  took  my  place  in  a  sort  of  fever ;  I  read  my 
lecture  :  I  thought  it  would  fill  an  hour,  but  I  finished  it  in 
twenty  minutes.  The  inspector —  a  dry  old  man  with 
silver  eye-glasses  and  a  little  wig  —  would  nod  his  head 
approvingly  every  few  minutes.  When  I  had  finished  and 
had  come  down  from  the  platform,  he  said,  *  That  was  very 
good,  sir,  but  a  little  transcendental,  a  trifle  vague  ;  there 
was  too  little  said  about  the  subject  1 '  But  the  students 
gazed  at  me  with  admiration.  Their  enthusiasm  is  the 
great  charm  of  youth.  I  took  notes  for  the  second  and  the 
third  lectures  ....  but  after  that  I  used  to  improvise." 

"  And  with  success  ?  "  asked  Leschnieff. 

"With  great  success.  People  flocked  to  hear  me.  I 
opened  my  whole  soul  to  them.  Among  them  there  were 
three,  in  fact  four,  remarkable  young  men ;  the  rest  only 


Dimitri  Roudine.  259 

half  understood  me.  Still,  I  must  acknowledge  that  even 
those  who  understood  me,  occasionally  embarrassed  me 
with  their  questions.  But  I  did  not  lose  courage.  All 
liked  me ;  and  I  gave  them  good  marks  at  their  exami- 
nations. But  an  intrigue  was  set  on  foot  against  me 

No,  it  was  not  an  intrigue ;  to  speak  plainly,  I  was  not  in 
the  right  place.  I  was  disagreeable  to  my  colleagues,  just 
as  they  were  to  me.  To  these  students  in  the  Gymnasium 
I  gave  lectures  such  as  one  seldom  hears  at  a  university ; 
and  my  hearers  consequently  derived  but  little  profit  from 
them  ....  for  I  was  not  thoroughly  familiar  with  the 
facts.  Besides,  I  was  not  satisfied  with  the  pettiness  of  the 
sphere  in  which  I  was  working  —  that  has  always  been 
my  weak  point.  I  wanted  radical  reforms,  and  I  am  too 
ready  to  take  my  oath  that  these  reforms  were  wise  and 
practicable.  I  hoped  to  carry  them  through  with  the  aid 
of  the  director,  an  excellent,  honest  man,  with  whom  at 
first  I  had  some  influence.  His  wife  encouraged  me.  I 
have  not  seen  many  such  women,  brother,  in  the  course  of 
my  life.  She  was  nearly  forty  years  old,  but  she  was  as 


260  Dimilri  Roudine. 

enthusiastic  for  everything  that  was  good  and  true  as  a 
girl  of  fifteen,  and  she  was  not  afraid  to  express  her 
opinions  before  any  one.  I  shall  never  forget  her  earnest- 
ness, her  purity.  I  already  formed  a  plan,  in  conformity 
with  her  advice  ....  when  secret  intrigues  were  set  at 
work,  and  all  sorts  of  calumnies  about  me  were  whispered 
to  her.  The  professor  of  mathematics  was  my  bitterest 
enemy ;  he  was  a  disagreeable,  sly,  vindictive  man,  who 
believed  in  nothing ;  like  Pigasoff,  only  more  intelligent. 
....  By  the  way,  is  he  still  living  ?  " 

"  He  lives,  and,  only  think !  he  has  married  a  servant- 
maid,  who,  they  say,  beats  him." 

"  It  serves  him  right.   And  is  Natalie  Alexievna  well  ?  * 

«  Yes." 

"  Is  she  happy  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Roudine  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  What  was  I  talking  about  ?  .  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  about  the 
professor  of  mathematics.  He  had  taken  a  great  hatred 
to  me.  He  compared  my  lectures  to  exhibitions  of  fireworks, 


Dimitri  Roudine.  261 

He  took  hold  of  every  one  of  my  phrases  which  was  not 
perfectly  clear,  and  made  the  most  of  a  victory  over  me 
about  some  insignificant  work  of  the  sixteenth  century,  of 

which  I  had  never  heard He  was  suspicious  of  my 

intentions.  My  last  soap-bubble  fell  on  him,  as  on  a  needle, 
and  burst.  The  inspector,  with  whom  I  had  disagreed  two 
or  three  times,  prejudiced  the  director  against  me;  then 
followed  a  scene  in  which  I  could  not  give  way.  I  grew 
angry.  The  matter  was  referred  to  the  higher  authorities 
and  I  was  compelled  to  hand  in  my  resignation.  I  didn't 
consider  myself  beaten,  but  I  wanted  to  show  that  I  was 

not  to  be  treated  in  that  way But  now  any  one  can 

treat  me  as  he'  pleases  !  .  .  .  .  Now  I  am  obliged  to  go 
away  from  here."  /- 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  The  friends  looked  at 
one  another  with  their  heads  cast  down. 

Roudine  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Yes,  brother,"  he  began,  « I  can  now  cry  with  Kolzoff, 
'  Where  hast  thou  brought  me,  my  youth  ?  I  have  no 
longer  where  to  lay  my  head !'....  And  was  I  really 


262  Dimitri  Roudine. 

good  for  nothing,  and  was  there  nothing  for  me  to  do  in 
this  world  ?  I  have  often  asked  myself  this  question,  and 
in  spite  of  all  my  attempts  to  set  myself  lower  in  my  own 
esteem,  I  can't  help  feeling  that  I  have  certain  abilities 
which  don't  fall  to  the  lot  of  every  one.  Why  must  this 
force  remain  powerless  ?  Then,  too,  dost  thou  remember 
when  we  travelled  abroad  together,  how  self-confident  and 
blind  I  was?  ....  It  is  true,  I  didn't  know  definitely 
what  I  wanted,  I  revelled  in  the  sound  of  my  own  voice, 
I  chased  vain  phantoms.  But  now,  on  the  contrary,  I 
can  say  aloud  to  the  whole  world  what  it  is  I  want ;  I  have 
nothing  to  hide ;  I  am,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  a 
well-meaning  man ;  I  have  become  humble,  I  am  willing 
to  adapt  myself  to  circumstances,  I  have  limited  my  wishes, 
I  don't  strive  for  any  remote  object,  I  confine  myself  to 
doing  even  the  slightest  service;  and  yet  I  do  not  suc- 
ceed in  anything.  What  is  the  reason  of  this  persistent 
failure  ?  Why  can't  I  live  and  work  like  others  ?  I  no 
sooner  get  a  definite  position,  I  no  sooner  establish  myself 
somewhere,  than  fate  casts  me  pitilessly  out  again.  .... 


Dimitri  Roudine.  263 

I  begin  to  fear  my  fate Why  is  this  ?  Explain  this 

puzzle  1 " 

"  Puzzle  1 "  repeated  Leschnieff.  "  It  is  true,  thou  hast 
always  been  a  puzzle  to  me.  Even  in  our  youth,  when  I 
saw  thee  acting  ill  and  speaking  well,  in  turn,  and  that 
time  after  time,  even  then  I  could  not  understand  thee 

clearly  ;  that  was  the  reason  I  ceased  to  love  thee 

Thou  hast  so  much  fire,  so  earnest  a  longing  for  the 
ideal 

"  Words,  nothing  but  words.  Where  are  the  deeds  ?  " 
interrupted  Koudine. 

"  They  lacking  1     What  sort  of  deeds  ?  " 

"What  sort?  Supporting  a  blind  grandmother  and  a 
whole  family  by  the  work  of  one's  hands,  like  Praschenzoff ; 
isn't  that  a  deed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  coarse  ;  but  a  good  word  is  a  deed,  too." 

Roudine  looked  at  Leschnieff  without  speaking,  and 
shook  his  head. 

Leschnieff  started  to  speak,  but  he  merely  passed  his 
hand  over  his  face. 


264  Dimitri  Ro^ld^ne. 

"  And  so  thou  art  going  to  thy  country-place  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Thou  hast  then  a  farm  V  " 

"  Something  of  the  sort.  Two  souls  and  a  half.  I  have 
a  hole  in  which  I  can  die.  Thou  art  probably  thinking, 
*  Even  now  he  can't  dispense  with  his  phrases ! '  Cer- 
tainly phrases  have  been  my  ruin ;  they  have  destroyed 

me But  what  I  just  said  is  no  phrase ;  these  are 

not  phrases,  brother,  these  wrinkles,  this  gray  hair  ;  these 
tattered  elbows  are  no  phrases.  Thou  hast  always  been 
severe  towards  me,  and  thou  hast  been  right ;  but  why  be 
severe  now,  when  all  is  finished,  when  there  is  no  more 
oil  in  the  lamp,  when  the  lamp  itself  is  shattered  and  the 
wick  is  nearly  burned  out  ?  Brother,  death  must  bring 
reconciliation  at  last." 

Leschnieff  sprang  from  his  chair. 

"  Roudine  1 "  he  cried,  "  why  speak  in  that  way  ?  How 
have  I  deserved  such  harshness  ?  Who  has  made  me 
judge,  and  what  sort  of  a  man  she  uld  I  be  if  the  word 
1  phrase '  could  come  into  my  hea  i  at  the  sight  of  thy 


Dimitri  Roudine.  265 

wrinkles,  and  thy  hollow  cheeks?  Dost  thou  want  to 
know  what  I  think  of  thee?  Very  well !  I  think  —  this 
man  ....  with  his  talents,  what  might  he  not  have 
attained,  what  earthly  possessions  might  he  not  control,  if 
he  had  only  wished  it !  ....  and  I  find  him  hungry,  with- 
out a  roof  over  his  head." 

"  I  arouse  thy  pity,"  said  Roudine  almost  inaudibly. 

"  No,  thou  art  mistaken.  It  is  with  respect  that  I  am 
inspired  —  that  is  the  truth.  What  prevented  thee  from 
living  for  years  with  thy  rich  friend  ?  I  am  confident  he 
would  have  made  thy  fortune  sure,  if  thou  hadst  been 
willing  to  subject  thyself  to  him.  Why  was  it  thy  stay  at 
the  Gymnasium  was  so  short?  Why,  why,  —  strange 
marl)  —  whatever  thy  first  intention,  must  the  end  always 
be  the  sacrifice  of  thy  own  interest,  without  taking  root  in 
any  soil,  however  fertile  it  may  be  ?  " 

"I  can  never  be  at  peace,"  answered  Roudine  with  a 
humble  smile, "  I  have  always  been  the  foot-ball  of  fortune." 

"  That  is  true,  but  thou  hast  no  rest,  not  because  a 
gnawing  worm  drives  thee  on;  that  is  not  it,  it  is  not 


266  Dimitri  Roudine. 

merely  the  spirit  of  restlessness.  The  fire  which  consumes 
thee  is  the  love  of  truth,  and  in  spite  of  all  sufferings  it 
glows  in  thee  more  strongly  than  in  many  others,  who 
don't  consider  themselves  egoists,  and  perhaps  take  you 
for  an  intriguer.  In  thy  place  I  should  have  long  since 
silenced  that  impulse,  and  should  have  reconciled  myself 
with  all  about  me ;  but  nothing  can  change  thee.  After 
all  these  cruel  deceptions,  thou  art  no  bitterer,  and  I  am 
sure  thou  art  ready  to  take  hold  of  any  work  with  all  the 
fire  of  a  young  man." 

"No,  brother,  now  I  am  tired,"  answered  Roudine, 
"  very,  very  tired." 

"  Tired !  Any  one  else  would  have  died  under  it  long 
ago.  Thou  sayest,  death  brings  reconciliation.  Why  should 
not  life  ?  He  whom  life  has  not  made  indulgent  for  others 
deserves  no  indulgence  for  himself.  And  who  can  say 
that  he  does  not  need  it?  Thou  hast  done  what  was 
in  thy  power,  thou  hast  struggled  as  long  as  thou  wert 

able What  need   of   more  ?      Our  paths  were 

different." 


Dimitri  Roudine.  267 

"  Thou,  brother,  art  a  different  man  from  me,"  inter- 
rupted Roudine,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Our  paths  were  different,"  resumed  Leschnieff ;  "  per- 
haps it  is  due  to  my  means,  my  coolness,  and  other  favor- 
ing circumstances,  that  nothing  prevented  me  from  sitting 
with  folded  hands,  an  idle  spectator  of  the  fray,  while 
thou  hadst  to  go  dov/n  into  the  arena,  roll  up  thy  sleeves, 
and  toil  and  struggle.  Our  paths  were  different,  and  yet 
see  how  near  we  are  to  one  another.  See,  we  speak  the 
same  language,  we  understand  one  another  without  ex- 
plaining every  word,  we  have  grown  up  with  the  same 
feelings.  There  are  only  a  few  of  us  left ;  we  two  are  the 
last  of  the  Mohicans  !  Long  ago  we  could  part  and  hate 
one  another  ;  then  the  life  before  us  seemed  long  ;  but  now 
that  our  ranks  are  thinned,  now  when  a  new  generation 
passes  us  with  other  aims  than  ours,  we  must  stand  by  one 
another. 

"  Let  us  touch  glasses,  brother,  as  we  used  to,  and  sing 
'  Gaudeamus  igitur.' " 

They  touched  their  glasses,  and  with  emotion,  but  in 


268  Dimitri  Roudine. 

the  true  Russian  fashion,  all  out  of  tune,  they  sang  the  old 
German  student-song. 

"  Thou  art  really  going  into  the  country,  then  ?  "  said 
Leschnieff  after  they  had  finished.  "  I  don't  think  thou 
wilt  stay  there  long,  and  I  cannot  imagine  with  whom, 
where,  and  how,  thou  wilt  end  thy  life  ....  but  don't 
forget,  whatever  happens,  that  thou  hast  always  a  refuge, 
a  nest  in  which  thou  canst  lay  thy  head  ;  that's  my  house, 
dost  hear,  old  friend  ?  Thought  has  its  veterans,  and 
those  who  have  served  it  deserve  an  asylum." 

Roudine  arose. 

"  Thanks,  brother,  thanks,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  never  for- 
get thy  offer.  But  I  don't  deserve  it.  I  have  wasted  my 
life,  and  I  have  not  served  the  ideal  as  I  should  have."  .... 

"  Silence,"  exclaimed  Leschnieff.  "  Every  one  is  as 
God  made  him,  and  one  can't  ask  him  to  be  otherwise. 
Thou  hast  called  thyself  'The  Wandering  Jew.'  .... 
Perhaps  after  all,  fate  compels  thee  to  wander  eternally, 
perhaps  thou  art  unconsciously  fulfilling  some  higher  des- 
tiny. Does  not  the  saying  run,  We  are  all  wandering  as 


Dimitri  Roudine.  269 

God  directs  us?  Go  on,  then,  whither  his  hand  leads 
thee !  "  continued  Leschnieff,  seeing  that  Roudine  was 
looking  for  his  hat.  "  Wilt  thou  not  pass  the  night 
here?" 

"  I  am  going  !  Good-by  !  Thanks I  am  sure  I 

shall  end  badly." 

"  God  alone  knows Thou  art  really  going  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Good-by.     Don't  think  too  ill  of  me." 

"  Good-by !  Don't  think  ill  of  me  either,  and  don't  for- 
get what  I've  said.  Good-by."  .... 

The  friends  embraced.     Roudine  walked  away  quickly. 

For  a  long  time  Leschnieff  walked  up  and  down  his 
room. 

He  stopped  before  the  window,  murmuring  to  himself, 
'<  Poor  fellow  1 "  then  he  sat  down  at  the  table  and  began 
a  letter  to  his  wife. 

Outside  the  wind  had  risen,  and  was  now  howling 
gloomily  around  the  house,  while  it  rattled  the  shutters 
with  its  sudden  gusts.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a  long 
autumn  night.  Happy  is  he  who  on  siu-li  a  night  has  a 


2/O  Dimitri  Roudine. 

roof  over  his  head  and  a  warm  corner  which  he  can  call 
his  own.     And  may  God  aid  all  homeless  wanderers  I 

It  was  hot  noon  of  the  24th  of  June,  1848.  The  rising 
of  the  ateliers  nationaux  was  almost  suppressed ;  a  battalion 
of  troops  of  the  line  was  storming  a  barricade  in  one  of 
the  narrow  streets  of  the  Faubourg  Saint- Antoine.  A 
few  cannon  balls  had  already  destroyed  it,  the  defenders 
who  survived  were  retreating,  only  caring  for  their  own 
safety,  when  suddenly  there  appeared  on  the  top  of  the 
ruins  of  the  barricade  a  tall  man,  with  flowing  white 
hair.  He  wore  an  old  coat,  with  a  red  sash  about  his 
waist,  and  a  straw  hat  on  his  head.  In  one  hand  he 
bore  a  red  banner,  in  the  other  a  short,  dull  sabre, 
and  he  was  shouting  with  a  sharp,  piercing  voice  while 
he  tried  to  make  signs  with  his  banner  and  sabre.  A 
Chasseur  de  Yincennes  took  aim  —  fired  —  the  banner 
slipped  from  his  hand,  and  the  man  fell  slowly  on  his 

face  to  the  ground The  bullet  had  gone  through 

his  heart. 


GENERAL  LIBRARY  -U.C.  BERKELEY 


Boooaioioa 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


